Hush Read online

  The thing was, now that he’d been here, in this bed, how could he go back to that empty suite? Knowing she was so close, knowing that he could have her.

  He closed his eyes. Just for a minute. He’d get up soon, go back to his room. He needed the distance. To think this through.

  So damn much was on the line. His job. Her future. And right now, all he wanted to think about was her body, her taste, the way she moved. Everything else could wait. Shit, he really should get up. Dress.

  In a second.

  WHEN PIPER opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Trace. She tried to figure out what time it was. Early. Maybe five, five-thirty.

  He’d stayed.

  Last night it hadn’t occurred to her that he’d leave, but this morning it seemed very strange that he hadn’t. What was also strange is that she’d fallen asleep at all.

  She rarely slept well with a man in her bed. Logan hadn’t minded in the least. She’d told him it was because he snored, but that wasn’t it. She didn’t like to cuddle, didn’t want to share her mornings with someone who’d messed her bed. She’d never felt the need to.

  Lisa had told her she acted more like a man than a woman, but she didn’t think it was that. She was just independent, that’s all. And besides, she’d never once fallen asleep with a guy, even when she was exhausted.

  So why had she with Trace?

  Maybe it was the release of so much tension. Or because she had so much on the line.

  She’d just curled up around him as if he were her body pillow and boom, she’d been asleep. It made her very, very nervous.

  Moving as slowly as she could, she lifted her head from his chest, uncurled her arm from around his waist and rolled to her side of the bed. She lay there, frozen, sure he’d wake up, but finally, she had to breathe.

  He didn’t move. Would he wake up if she actually got out of bed? Did she want to get out of bed?

  Turning her head to the side, she stared at the man. He was exceptionally stunning. No way around that. Especially with his hair all messed up like that. Her fingers tingled, wanting to play there again. So smooth, so silky. Like petting a mink.

  She closed her eyes, turned away. She couldn’t possibly be feeling what she was feeling. She didn’t want him again, not now. Their deal was for nights, not mornings. Besides, last night was probably it. He’d had his fun, and now he would go back to being Trace. The guy who worked for her father. Who thought Hush was a lousy idea, and that she was an idiot with good cheekbones.

  The thing to do was just lie here. Pretend she was sleeping, wait for him to get up and leave. He’d want to be out of here, she felt sure of that. She’d see him soon enough. Later. At nine, she had a very unpleasant task. Unpleasant but necessary. After that, she had a meeting with the PR people. Trace wanted to go through the room-service area, see how she was organized.

  Then there were more meetings with Lisa and Janice. And finally, they were both going to meet with the concierge team. They’d hired four, and they were all extraordinarily good at the job, but it was important that Hush establish a precedent. The signature of Hush was to make people happy and comfortable. Piper knew only too well how demanding high-end patrons could be.

  No effort would be spared. Meticulous notes would be kept on every guest. They would want for nothing.

  Trace shifted, and she froze. Held her breath. But he snuffled a bit, then nothing. Just sleep. She could wait it out. The bed was fabulous, the sheets orgasmic….

  Oh, crap. Why didn’t he just wake up?

  7

  PIPER WALKED into the lobby of the Orpheus Hotel and headed for the private elevator, nodding at the general manager, whom she despised, as she passed the front desk.

  The Orpheus was her father’s flagship hotel, and it was one of the most extraordinary hotels in the world. Opulent, expansive and so pretentious it made her teeth ache. When she’d designed Hush, she’d made sure that while her hotel was gorgeous and luxurious, it had nothing of the stuffy ambiance of Orpheus.

  Even the elevator, with its gilded mirrors and chandelier made her want to moon the security cameras. She held back.

  Nicholas wasn’t expecting her, but she’d checked with his secretary and made sure he didn’t have anything big to interrupt. Of course she knew she was on a fool’s errand, but she couldn’t afford not to try. Last night had shown her just how thin the ice was under her feet. She wished she understood what was going on with Trace. She’d gotten her wish—he’d awakened at six-fifteen, dressed in record time and beat feet. She’d feigned sleep, and they hadn’t spoken. Time enough for that when she got back to Hush.

  She got out of the elevator on the top floor. Her father’s floor. Nothing up here but his suite and the corporate offices. And the best views of Central Park on the Upper West Side.

  She walked down the hall, her heels sinking into the plush carpet. No longer noticing the paintings on the wall, all of them priceless originals, she did note the intoxicating scent of jasmine floating from the fresh flower displays spaced on marble pedestals throughout the hallway.

  There was no expense spared at the Orpheus, which wasn’t the case in her father’s other hotels. The Devon hotels all looked fabulous, if one didn’t look too carefully. But at the Orpheus the beauty was bone deep. Because he lived here.

  She opened the door to his outer office, and was greeted by the professional smile of his longtime secretary, Marilyn. Not his assistant, executive or otherwise, even though she knew more about his life than he did. Nicholas had a secretary. And a butler and a chauffeur and a personal barber. He was of the old school—the incredibly wealthy and privileged old school.

  “Ms. Devon. How nice to see you.”

  “Thanks, Marilyn. Is he free?”

  The older woman nodded as she headed for the double doors leading to the inner sanctum. Her desk was massive but immaculate, as was the woman. Not massive, just perfectly put together. Not a hair out of place. She’d worked for Nicholas for almost twenty years, and Piper had never heard her raise her voice.

  Marilyn tapped politely, then went inside, making sure she left no room for Piper to see a thing. But in a few seconds, she was back, holding the door wide for Piper to walk in.

  Nicholas was behind his desk, a sleek antique that was worth more than most people’s homes. It sat in the middle of a room that looked like something out of Versailles. He looked well, although not thrilled to see her. “Piper. I didn’t expect you.”

  “I know, but I need to talk to you.”

  He raised one silver eyebrow. Elegantly. Of course everything about her father was elegant. His suits were all custom-tailored in Italy, his shoes handmade. “If this is about the hotel, you needn’t bother.”

  She walked over to the wing chair in front of his desk and sat down. Her posture was perfect, her demeanor schooled as she’d been taught from infancy. “It is about the hotel.”

  “We’ve been over this.”

  “Yes, we have. But you haven’t even come to see it.”

  “I’ve had my reports.”

  “I’m sure Trace told you everything you wanted to hear. But it’s not the same. I think you’d be very surprised if you came down to see it. We’re booked for months, with more reservations coming in every day. The restaurant has gotten incredible reviews, and the coverage is unprecedented. It can’t fail.”

  Her father smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant thing to see. “It can fail. You’re pandering to the worst of human nature. Sex is fine for bordellos, not first-class hotels.”

  “There’s nothing second-class about Hush.”

  “The very idea of it is déclassé. Tawdry.”

  “If you came to see it—”

  “I won’t be associated with the hotel as it stands. I don’t know how I could be clearer about the situation.”

  “All I’m asking for is two years. If I can’t make a go of it after that, fine. I’ll make it a perfect little Devon hotel. But I won’t need to. In two years, we’ll be f
ully operational and well in the black.”

  “Piper—”

  “I’m not even asking you to give me the money. Just loan it to me. You know better than anyone how much money it takes to launch a hotel, especially in Manhattan. I’ve used up most of the trust, but I know I’ll earn it all back, plus a ton more. As soon as the cash flow improves, we can’t help but make a profit. If I fail, which I won’t, I’ll pay back every cent. You can’t lose.”

  “Of course I can. You’re not just disgracing yourself with this folly. I have my reputation to think about.”

  “Your reputation? Are you joking?”

  “I never joke about my hotels.”

  Piper took a deep breath. She shouldn’t be angry. She’d known before she left this morning that he’d say exactly this. So why did she feel like throwing the fifteenth-century desk clock through the twenty-four carat gilded mirror?

  “If that’s all, I have phone calls to make.”

  She stood up. “That’s all for now. But it’s not over.”

  “Please, Piper. Don’t embarrass yourself any further.”

  “You’re not a young Turk anymore, Dad. And it isn’t the forties. It’s time for new blood, new ideas. I read the financial news, and the Devon name doesn’t mean what it used to.”

  The only response she got from her father was a short huff and a slight reddening of his cheeks. He picked up his phone and turned to stare out the window.

  “You and Trace are perfect for each other. You’ve both turned being a bastard into an art form.”

  With his back to her he said, “You have four days to reconsider.”

  When she left, she didn’t even slam the door behind her.

  TRACE HAD just finished dressing after his shower when he heard the knock on the door, but instead of room service there was a small woman wearing a pink hat. In her arms was a black cat with a pink collar.

  “May I help you?”

  “You’re Trace Winslow, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Piper said that you’d watch Eartha Kitty until she got back.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She held out the cat, who looked at him with suspicious eyes. “Eartha Kitty. I have to go shopping and Piper didn’t want to leave her alone because they’re still working on the shelves and she was afraid that Eartha would get out or get hurt, so she told me to bring her up here until she got back.”

  “No.”

  The woman blinked. So did the cat. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m not a cat sitter. You’ll have to find someone else.”

  “But Piper said—”

  “I don’t work for Piper.”

  “Oh. Well, gee.”

  Trace was going to shut the door, but the woman looked so distraught that he hesitated.

  “It’s just for a couple of hours, and the kitty will just curl up and go to sleep. You’ll never even notice that she’s here.”

  “Dammit.” He took the cat, holding it well away from his suit. Piper would owe him. Big time.

  PIPER LEANED BACK in her chair as Lisa finished her phone call. They immediately resumed their conversation. “It’s confusing the hell out of me,” Piper said. She sipped at her black currant tea. Lisa would help. She knew Piper better than anyone on earth, and she wasn’t afraid to tell the truth.

  She’d been Piper’s best friend forever, and the bond between them had strengthened immeasurably after Piper’s mother’s death just after Piper’s eleventh birthday. Now that Lisa was the new head of human resources for the hotel, Piper couldn’t be happier.

  “What, exactly, did he say?” Lisa asked, folding her hands neatly on top of her desk.

  “That he wasn’t going to be swayed by any of this. That he had no intention of talking to my father.”

  Lisa shook her head as she gave Piper a pitying look. “So basically, you gave him a freebie and he’s upstairs now gloating.”

  “Oh, God.”

  Lisa leaned forward. “Holy crap, you wanted him. You still do.”

  “I do not!”

  “Liar. Your nose is growing as you sit there. Shit, how many years have you been telling me you hate Trace Winslow? And all this time, you’ve been wanting to get him in the sack.”

  “Cut it out, Lisa. I have not. I’m desperate here. Do you have any idea how much money we’re talking about? I can’t just turn my back on it.”

  “Right. It was a political maneuver. If Trace had been, say, four foot five and a hunchback, you would have offered him the same deal.”

  Sometimes she hated Lisa. The woman knew her far too well. “Whose side are you on?”

  “Truth, justice and the American way.”

  Piper nearly spit her tea. She wiped her mouth with a tissue and put her cup down. “So fine. I’m a slut of the first order, and Trace has been my secret dream. The question now is what do I do?”

  Lisa was Piper’s opposite in so many ways. She was dark where Piper was fair; she was only five-four, and there was something distinctly exotic about her beauty, which, being a smart cookie, Lisa parlayed into a very unique and enviable style. Right now, though, her almond-shaped dark eyes were studying Piper in a disquieting manner.

  “What?” she asked, suspicious now.

  “Do you really think Trace could change his mind?”

  “I don’t know. I think so. Despite our rocky history, I have gotten to know him a little over the years, and he’s not a total schmuck. Of all the people that work for Nicholas, he’s the most sensible, and he’s softened the old man in surprising ways. It would be huge to get him on my side. What I don’t know is if he really thinks Hush is a mistake, or if he just thinks it’s not Devon enough.”

  “Well, then, I guess you can’t afford to alienate him.”

  “I never could afford to do that. I just wish I knew what he was thinking.”

  “Ask him.”

  “Lisa. Be serious.”

  “I am. The two of you love the battle so much, you don’t even know how to talk to each other anymore. Of course, that could have all been about wanting to boff like bunnies.”

  Piper was going to object but her friend might be right. About the boffing part, at least.

  “So what the hell do you have to lose? Talk to the man. Be honest with him. Stop playing games.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “I know. You establish these weird rules, and then it’s hard to break them. But you’ve got bigger issues here than sparkling wit and double entendres. Go for it, babe. Give it your best shot.”

  Piper nodded. “I’d better go rescue him.”

  “From?”

  “I had Ruth give him the cat while I was gone.”

  Lisa cracked up. She’d known Trace for years, too, and knew his feelings about cats. “Oh, yeah. This is gonna be a fun week.”

  “Don’t remind me. I’ll see you later.”

  “Good luck.”

  She’d need it. She left Lisa’s office and headed for the elevators, wondering just how bad it was going to be with Trace. And if her whole world was going to blow up in her face.

  TRACE STARED into the intense green eyes before him. For the past two hours he’d been tormented by the unwavering gaze, but this was the last straw.

  It was Piper’s fault, of course. She’d known just what it would be like for him, had counted on it, he felt sure. And still, she’d stuck him in this nightmare.

  He thought about leaving. Dammit, he had things to do. He’d wanted to finish going through his e-mail before Piper returned. But those eyes. They stared at him with such manipulative pleading.

  “Go away,” he said.

  The cat didn’t budge. She didn’t care that she was shedding all over his laptop. That his suit was covered with tiny little hairs that wouldn’t come out no matter how vigorously he used his clothes brush. Why Piper had instructed her “pet concierge” to bring him the damn cat was beyond his comprehension. Piper knew how he felt about cats. He liked them just fine, as long as th
ey belonged to someone else and didn’t bother him. He’d had to put up with Piper’s pet nonsense far too often. This was just, pardon the pun, petulance on her part.

  It wasn’t his job, dammit, to watch the pets. Eartha Kitty. What the hell kind of name was that?

  “Shoo,” he said, pushing the little black behind.

  The cat meowed, but didn’t move.

  Trace picked her up and put her on the carpet. Of course the last three times he’d done that, she’d scurried right back onto his desk and over to his computer. Before she could do it again, he lifted the laptop, shook it, releasing a shower of black hairs, then closed it tight. “Ha,” he said.

  The cat was unimpressed.

  Where was Piper, anyway? They were supposed to meet with the publicity team in half an hour. He wasn’t bringing the damn cat with him.

  His cell rang, and he got it from his jacket. “Trace Winslow.”

  “Exactly what is going on?”

  He recognized Nicholas Devon’s voice immediately. The old man had just come back from London. He had a mistress there, a baroness. She wasn’t his only one. Nicholas might be almost seventy, but he had the libido of a much younger man. Either that, or his women hoped to get something out of the will. Fat chance.

  “Piper’s going to fight it to the end,” he said.

  “So I gathered. She was here this morning. Wanting to make a deal.”

  Trace didn’t think it wise to mention the deal Piper had made with him. “She’s convinced Hush is going to make her a fortune. You know how stubborn she can be.”

  Nicholas grunted. “I was hoping you would be more persuasive than I’ve been.”

  “I will be. I’m going to be here—ow!”

  “Trace?”

  The damn cat was climbing his leg. And it had very sharp claws. “Nothing, sir, it’s the cat.”

  “What cat?”

  “Piper picked up another stray.”

  “I thought you were at the hotel.”

  “I am. And we’re meeting with her publicity team shortly. I don’t want to be late.”