Backfire Page 2

  Turning away from Madeline, he motioned to her father. “Come on, Charbonnet. Let’s get this thing over with.” Without waiting for a reply, Chase strode to the front of the room.

  As Charbonnet stepped up to the microphone, Chase move to the side and half listened while he announced the new partnership and outlined his grand plans for the hotel.

  “As all of you know, the Saint Charles Hotel has always prided itself on its old-world elegance and its fine service. With Majestic Hotels as our new partner, we intend to not only uphold that tradition, but to expand upon it,” Charbonnet continued. “Our guests will continue to enjoy all of the amenities now offered, plus some additional ones…”

  Yes, the man was really good at spending money, Chase thought, confirming his earlier assessment. In this case, someone else’s. But he would let the old man have his day, enjoy himself while he could. Because within six months, if all went as planned, Charbonnet’s little kingdom would come crumbling down.

  And what about Madeline Charbonnet?

  She wasn’t his problem. He had waited a long time for this moment. It was the culmination of years of working, watching and waiting. At last the vengeance he had sought was within his grasp.

  He didn’t intend to lose the chance to even the score simply because some spoiled little rich girl had starry-eyed notions about the hotel. Only a fool would fall for that “heart in her eyes” trick.

  Yet as he looked down into the gathering where she listened to her father ramble on about the hotel’s heritage and its long ties to the Charbonnet family, the pride and longing on that expressive face of hers looked real.

  And as Henri Charbonnet introduced him, the flicker of betrayal and then anger that raced across her features before she turned and started for the exit didn’t seem at all like a trick.

  Forget about her, McAllister, Chase told himself as he stepped up to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, Honorable Mayor, members of the city council, distinguished guests and friends, on behalf of Majestic Hotels, I would like to take this opportunity to thank you…”

  Madeline allowed the cool water from the faucet to run over her hands and wrists while she struggled to regain control of herself. After several long moments she reached over and turned off the tap.

  What a foolish thing to do, Madeline told her image in the gilt-edged mirror that hung over the basin in the ladies’ powder room. Not foolish, it was plain stupid, she amended. Color flooded her cheeks as she relived the frustration and anger she had experienced at Chase McAllister’s cutting reply.

  What angered her most was that he had been right—the decision to sell an interest in the hotel hadn’t been hers. She had had absolutely no say in the matter. True, the hotel didn’t belong to her. It belonged to her father. But she loved the place, had practically grown up in it. She knew every piece of furniture, every antique that filled each of the hotel’s eighty suites. It was more than just a hotel, more than just a piece of real estate. It was her home. And the thought of strangers owning a part of it galled her, made her physically ill.

  Drying her hands on the linen towels that bore the hotel’s entwined letters S and C, Madeline tossed it into the brass container designated for soiled linens. She leaned against the marble countertop and squeezed her eyes shut.

  But there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Not now. It was too late. And any hopes that she might have harbored of one day running the hotel were finished. Even if she could have eventually convinced her father that she was capable of running the Saint Charles, it no longer mattered. The decision would no longer be his. It belonged to some unknown board of directors on the East Coast who wouldn’t care about the hotel’s history or the fact that a Charbonnet had always been at its helm.

  If only her father had given her a chance, confided in her. Maybe she could have helped him work out the financial problems without resorting to selling off a part of the hotel.

  But he hadn’t. He hadn’t even bothered to discuss his problems or his decision to sell with her until it was too late. The realization made her angry, but more than that, it hurt. Because it just drove home what she already knew: in her father’s eyes she could never measure up. If she had, he would never have opted to sell.

  Biting back a sigh of frustration, Madeline opened her eyes. No matter how hard she worked, no matter how good she was at her job, her father didn’t think she was capable of running the hotel. And now with Chase McAllister in the picture, she would never have the chance to prove him wrong.

  At the thought of Chase McAllister, Madeline straightened. The man had unnerved her. She had been all too aware of him watching her. He had reminded her of a wolf, running his eyes over her lazily, as though he were contemplating taking a taste. Madeline shivered at the image of Chase’s mouth on her skin. She smoothed her fingers down the sides of her skirt as she recalled the feel of his palm, strong and hard against her own, when she had offered him her hand.

  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 dign
ify 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 h
er 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.