The Wager

Five

“Is something wrong with your veal?” Laura asked, unnerved by Josh’s steady gaze on her.

“The veal’s excellent.” As though to prove the point he took a bite, but his eyes never wavered from her face.

“Josh, you’re staring,” she accused, hoping the rebuke would diffuse the sexual tension that seemed to have escalated between them in the restaurant’s cozy surroundings.

“I know,” he admitted, and instead of being embarrassed to have been caught, he merely flashed her another of those killer smiles that had her stomach dipping and her heart beating just a little too fast. “I was remembering that old adage about the eyes being the mirror to a person’s soul. Whoever came up with that particular phrase must have had you in mind, Laura Harte. You have the most incredible eyes—so expressive.”

So much for dousing the sensual sparks, Laura thought. His answer and the way he was looking at her—like he was a big cat and she was a tempting bowl of cream—had her already fast pulse racing flat-out. She drew in a deep breath, trying to marshal her reaction to the man. “Thank you.”

He chuckled. “See, that’s what I mean. A moment ago you were all business, and your eyes were an icy blue. But just now when I surprised you and you forgot to be Ms. Hotel Executive, the color of your eyes changed,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky drawl. “Now they’re a smoky blue—like the surf in St. Thomas at dawn.”

“I think one of us has had too much wine,” she said with a nonchalance she was far from feeling.

“Nope.” As if to prove his point, Josh took another sip of the cabernet. “Just making an observation. Surely I’m not the first man to tell you that you have beautiful eyes.”

“No,” she murmured, but she couldn’t remember any other man making her hot all over with just a look. “Thank you.”

He nodded but continued to watch her over the rim of his glass. “I’ve embarrassed you.”

“No, you haven’t.”

He grinned. “That’s not what your eyes tell me. They truly are extraordinary, the most unique color. Just when I think I’ve nailed down the exact shade, they change again. But then, I guess you’ve heard that before, too.”

“Actually, I haven’t, and I suspect you know it,” Laura said, determined not to let him fluster her. “You’re very skilled at this.”

“At what?”

“Flirting.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

“Isn’t it?” she countered. “Those deep, soul-searching looks and all this talk about the color of my eyes when you and I both know that they’re blue. Plain, ordinary blue.”

Josh’s lips curved again. This time slowly, seductively. He leaned forward slightly, which increased the feeling of intimacy between them. “Trust me, Laura. There’s not a man alive who would look at you and ever see anything plain or ordinary about you.”

Laura’s pulse skittered. Her mouth suddenly dry, she reached for her wineglass, clutched it tightly and hoped he didn’t notice the slight tremor in her fingers. She disliked the fact that she was nervous, Laura admitted as she sipped the expensive vintage. She dealt with lots of men in her line of work. Men never made her nervous. Josh didn’t make her nervous. He certainly wasn’t responsible for this light-headed feeling she had or for the butterflies buzzing in her stomach. As she studied him over the rim of her glass, she told herself the way she felt had nothing to do with Josh or the fact that he was handsome and charming, and she found him attractive. No, it wasn’t Josh himself who was responsible for her feeling this way. It was the setting—the candlelight and romantic music. It was the fact that she was lonely and it had been well over a year since she’d been involved in a male-female relationship.

And she was lying through her teeth, Laura conceded. But only a first-rate idiot would buy the line he was feeding her. And she was no idiot. She’d met men like Josh Logan before—gorgeous, charming seducers out for a night or two of fun. And as interesting and attractive as she found Josh, a quick fling wasn’t her style. Yet, sitting here with him now, she almost wished that it was. “You’re a dangerous man, Josh Logan,” she said, giving him her brightest smile. “I can only imagine the long trail of broken hearts you’ve left in your wake down South.”

“Ouch,” he said, slapping a hand against his heart. “Those are some pretty sharp arrows you’re slinging there, Ms. Harte. Do you always shoot a man when he pays you a compliment?”

“Is that what you were doing? Why, I could have sworn you were trying to seduce me.”

She’d meant to make him laugh, had been sure he would find her comeback amusing. Yet the grin died on his lips. His eyes darkened, and she noted for the first time tiny flecks of gold in them. “Believe me, Laura, if I were trying to seduce you, you wouldn’t have to wonder if that’s what I was doing. You would know it.”

Laura’s breath stalled in her lungs. And despite her best efforts to prevent it, excitement shimmied down her spine.

“Are you finished, Ms. Harte?” the waiter asked, saving her from having to respond.

“Yes. I am. Thank you, Stewart.”

Telling herself that she wasn’t a coward for feeling grateful at the interruption, Laura used the opportunity to rein in her emotions. While Stewart cleared away the dishes and recited the dessert menu, Laura attempted to regain her perspective by reminding herself that Josh Logan was her boss’s friend and a man whom she would probably never see again after tonight. Just because she’d been lonely since her mother’s death was no reason to overreact to his innocent flirtation—a flirtation that was no doubt second nature to a man like him. Once the waiter retreated, they both said simultaneously, “I’m sorry.”

She laughed.

So did Josh.

“Well, I’m glad we got that cleared up,” she told him. “Thank you for what you said…about my eyes. It was very sweet of you—which is what I should have said to begin with instead of accusing you of hitting on me. I was out of line and I really am sorry.”

“Since we’re being honest, I suppose I should confess that you weren’t totally off base,” he replied, a wicked and totally unapologetic glint in his eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, I meant what I said. You do have beautiful eyes.”

“But?”

“But I guess I was hitting on you. It wasn’t a conscious thing on my part, but I was coming on to you all the same.”

“I understand,” she said, disappointed because there was a part of her that had wanted to believe he’d been sincere in the things he’d said.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I know it wasn’t anything personal. It was instinctive—the ‘you’re a man, I’m a woman’ thing.”

Josh frowned as he sat back in his chair and subjected her to one of those scrutinizing looks. “Tell me something, Laura. Do you have a poor opinion of the male population in general or is it just me in particular?”

She caught the edge in his voice, wondered how she had managed to put it there. “Neither.”

“And you, Ms. Harte, can’t lie worth spit.”

“Now, just hang on a minute,” Laura shot back, bristling at his reply.

“No, you hang on,” he told her, and pinned her with a steely look. “What I was trying to say and have obviously done a damn poor job of it is that I’m attracted to you. You’re a smart, interesting woman and I like the fact that you live and breathe this business like I do. I’m also fascinated by the fact that you look at an old hotel like this one and see more than just dollar signs or a lucrative investment. You see the beauty and history that gives the place its soul, that makes it unique. Add to that the fact that you’re a beautiful, sexy woman, and I would have to be dead or have ice in my veins not to hit on you.”

His little speech took the wind right out of her sails. For a full five seconds Laura could do nothing more than stare at him. One thing she was sure of was that Josh Logan wasn’t dead and never in a million years would she even think of suggesting he had ice in his veins. Quite to the contrary, Josh struck her as a man who would be passionate in all aspects of his life.

“Obviously, I’ve shocked you.”

The amusement in his voice nipped at her pride, making her feel like an awkward girl unused to going toe-to-toe with a man like him. Keeping her voice cool, she said, “Not at all. I’m just not sure how to respond. I can’t decide it you were apologizing to me just now or taking another stab at trying to seduce me.”

“Neither. I was simply stating the facts.”

“Thank you for clearing that up for me,” she countered.

“Glad to do it. But there is one thing I think I should clarify.”

The gleam in his eyes, coupled with that handsome face, made her think of fallen angels. Still she asked, “And just what would that be?”

“While I may have admitted that I was hitting on you a few minutes ago, I haven’t tried to seduce you.”

Yet. The unspoken word hung between them like a live wire dangling in a storm, and Laura’s already taut nerves grew even more tense. “I didn’t realize there was a difference.”

The smile he gave her was pure sin. “Believe me, there is. I’d be happy to explain it to you or even demonstrate, if you’d like.”

“That’s all right. I’ll take your word for it,” she said, deciding she’d be wise not to pursue the discussion. While she didn’t consider herself a coward and had enjoyed the verbal volleying with him, she suspected Josh Logan was far better at this male-female thing than she was. So she held out her hand. “Truce?”

“Truce.” But instead of shaking her hand as she’d intended, Josh kissed it. And Laura felt the touch of his lips all the way to her toes.

“It looks like dessert’s arrived,” she said, withdrawing her hand. And while the waiter prepared Bananas Foster table-side, Laura chattered about the restaurant’s other sumptuous dessert offerings.

Once the flaming delicacy had been served and the waiter retreated, Laura decided she’d be wise to avoid any more of the sensual minefields they’d been stumbling across all evening by shifting to a safer topic. “Nick mentioned earlier that both your father and grandfather were hoteliers.”

“That’s right. Gramps was still in his twenties when he built his first hotel. By the time I was born, he owned more than a dozen.”

“And now?” she asked before spooning up a taste of the ice cream.

“Now there are thirty-one hotels that bear the Logan Hotels banner.”

“Very impressive,” Laura said. “How does it feel to be part of a dynasty?”

He chuckled. “I’m not sure dynasty is the word I’d use to describe us Logans.”

“I don’t see why not. You and your family have been very successful in a business that’s extremely competitive.”

“True,” he said as he shoveled up another spoon of ice cream coated with the thick brown-sugar sauce. “But it’s hard thinking of Logan Hotels as a dynasty when I’ve been brought up to think of it as our little family business.”

Laura arched a brow. “Somehow, I don’t think thirty-one hotels classifies as anyone’s little family business.”

“Put like that, I guess it does sound silly. But it’s what we do.”

“And obviously you do it very well.”

He shrugged. “Gramps was a good teacher. And my family’s been lucky. We’ve gotten most of the hotels we’ve gone after, but we’ve also worked hard to make things happen.”

“I imagine you have. Still, it must be nice…you and your family working together.”

“It’s both a blessing and a curse….”

While Josh spoke of the fun and the madness of working with his siblings and parents, Laura couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. She thought of her own life, the closeness she’d shared with her mother, and considered the irony of the profession she’d chosen. Not for the first time since discovering the truth about her father, she wondered how her mother had felt about her decision to pursue a career in hotel management. Thoughts of her father invariably brought back the phone call from Olivia Jardine. Despite the older woman’s insistence, her heritage wasn’t in New Orleans. Why would she even want to claim the heritage of a man who had not only abandoned his pregnant lover, but had denied her as well?

“Is something wrong?”

Laura jerked her attention to Josh. “No. Not at all. I was just thinking about the dynamics of your family. How many of you Logans are there?”

“In my immediate family, there are five of us kids. There are also a half-dozen aunts and uncles and about twenty or so cousins.”

For someone who’d had no one but her mother, it sounded like an army. “You have four brothers and sisters?”

“No brothers. Just sisters. Two older than me—Meredith and Rachel—and two who are younger—Hope and Faith. And they’re all nosy, bossy and intent on driving their only brother crazy.”

“Those are interesting descriptions of your sisters. Makes me wonder how they’d describe you.”

“As their handsome, charming and perfect brother, of course.”

Laura laughed at the outrageous claim.

“It’s true,” he assured her.

“Sure it is.”

“And it’s obvious that you didn’t grow up in a house of pesky siblings.”

“Afraid not. It was just me and my mother,” Laura informed him, enjoying the easy banter between them. She sampled the banana swimming in the thick, rich sauce.

“You poor, deprived kid. You missed out on all the fun stuff like fighting for a shot at the bathroom, and when you get it, nearly getting choked to death on all the perfumes and girly lotions in the air. Or waiting your turn for the shower and discovering there’s no hot water left.”

“You’re right. I can’t say I’ve had any of that fun.”

“And I don’t suppose you know what it’s like to find half of your shirts and shorts missing because the newest craze in female fashion is men’s wear, do you?”

Grinning, Laura shook her head, both amused and intrigued by the images he was painting of his siblings. “No, but my mom and I were the same size and she used to borrow my clothes sometimes. Does that count?”

“Not even close,” he informed her. “True sibling torture is to be a lowly red-shirted freshman on the football team and have the foxy senior-class cheerleader offer to drive you home after practice, and while the two of you are making out in her snazzy car in front of your house, your bratty little sisters are spying on you. Worse yet, they run inside and tattle on you to your parents.”

“You’re making that up,” Laura accused, unable to hold back her laughter.

He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor. My sisters drove me crazy when we were kids, and now that we’re adults, they take turns trying to drive me nuts.”

“But you love them,” she said, hearing the affection in his voice, seeing it in his eyes.

He shrugged. “What choice do I have? They’re family. You have to love your family.”

Not always, Laura mused. She thought again of her father, of Andrew Jardine. For the first time since discovering the truth, she allowed herself to think of his children—her half brother and sisters. She couldn’t help wondering what it would have been like if things had been different.

“What about you? What was it like for you growing up?” Josh asked.

Laura pulled her thoughts back to the present. “Compared to your childhood, mine was very quiet. My father…I never knew my father. It was just my mother and me.”

“Nick told me she died recently and that the two of you were close.”

“Yes. We were close. She was a wonderful woman—sort of a combination of mother, sister and best friend all rolled into one. She was so full of life. Always had a smile on her face. I don’t think she ever met a stranger, or at least no one that stayed a stranger, for long. Everyone adored her.”

“She sounds like a special lady.”

“She was. And she didn’t have it easy, raising me by herself. But she never complained, never once made me feel that I was a burden. I always felt loved, wanted. She was a very strong and brave woman.”

“A lot like her daughter, I suspect.”

Laura swallowed hard. “Thank you,” she murmured, and stared down at her dessert.

“You still miss her a lot, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Laura admitted.

He tipped up her chin with his finger so that she met his eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine how you must feel. As much as I complain about my family, I’d be lost without them.”

Which described exactly how she’d felt during these past months—lost. But it wasn’t just the physical absence of her mother. It was knowing that all those years she’d idolized a father who’d never existed, that she’d believed herself to be someone she wasn’t. “I still have my friends. And, of course, there’s Uncle Paul.”

“Uncle Paul?”

“Well, he’s not really my uncle. He’s…he was my mother’s attorney and oldest friend. I’ve known him all my life,” she informed him. “He certainly treats me like family, though. He’s always nagging at me to eat, to go out more, not to work too hard. Judging by the number of sons and nephews of associates that he’s been introducing to me lately on one pretext or another, I think he’s made it his mission to marry me off.”

“Is that what you want? To get married and settle down?”

Something in Josh’s tone had Laura look up from the spoon that she’d been licking. Excitement danced along her skin at the hunger in his eyes as he watched her. “I suppose so…someday. If the right man comes along.”

“And what type of man is the right man?”

“He’s someone li—” She’d been about to say, he was someone like her father had been. But her father hadn’t been the man she’d believed him to be. He’d been an irresponsible coward and liar. “He’s someone honest and trustworthy. Someone who lives up to his responsibilities, who does what’s right regardless of the cost to him.”

“Sounds like you’re holding out for a hero,” he said as he stole a spoonful of her Bananas Foster.

“I guess I am.” She noted his empty dish as he swiped another bite of her dessert. “What about you?”

“Me?” He paused, his spoon already poised for another swoop of her ice cream. “I’m not holding out for a hero.”

“Funny,” she said, and tapped his spoon aside. His expression fell as she zeroed in on the last of the dessert. So she divided the remaining bite in half. “I meant do you ever think about getting married and settling down?”

Polishing off the bite she’d left him, he grinned and said, “Not if I can help it.”

“Josh, it really isn’t necessary for you to walk me to my car,” Laura said as they approached the bank of elevators that led to the parking garage.

“Sure it is.” He pushed the button, signaling for the elevator. “It’s late. The garage will be dark and you’re alone.”

“And your point is?”

“Besides the fact that it would be ungentlemanly of me not to accompany you, walking through a dark garage alone at night doesn’t strike me as being particularly safe.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman?”

“I didn’t say that,” he countered carefully, catching that slight edge in her voice and the defiant tilt of her chin.

“You didn’t have to. Obviously you think that if some…some thug managed to get past the hotel’s security—which is excellent, by the way—that I, being a mere woman, couldn’t possibly handle the situation.”

He was in stormy waters here, Josh told himself. Thanks to his sisters, he knew just how prickly a woman could get when she thought a man was being overprotective. “What I think is that any thug foolish enough to mistake you for a potential victim would end up getting his butt soundly kicked—by you.”

“You’re right. I would kick his butt,” she told him, the militant gleam in her eyes vanishing.

“I’m sure you would.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Laura replied. “So why don’t we just say goodbye now and you can go on back to your hotel room? I’ll be just fine.”

“I’m sure you will, but I won’t.” He hit the button for the elevator again, watched her wrinkle her brows. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m from the South,” he teased, exaggerating his drawl. “I’ve already gone against the code of the Southern gentleman by letting you convince me to just walk you to your car instead of seeing you home.”

“There isn’t any such code.”

“Of course there is,” Josh argued.

She eyed him skeptically. “Then how come I’ve never heard of it?”

“Because, my doubting Yankee, it’s a secret code that only men from the South know about.” The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Josh gestured for her to precede him, then followed her inside. “What floor?”

“Five,” she said. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that business about a secret code?”