Backfire Page 4

  “Madeline, wait.”

  She stopped at the door; her heart raced like a Thoroughbred as he moved closer. “This is an important account. It means one hundred room nights, plus fifty table covers. I don’t want to be late.”

  “I’m glad you’re so conscientious.” His lips curved into another of those sexy-as-sin grins of his. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to meet your client with that smudge of blueberry on your chin.”

  “Blue—”

  He caught her hand when she would have wiped at her face, and ran his thumb along her jaw, to the edge of her mouth, across her bottom lip.

  A breath shuddered through Madeline at the sensual impact of his touch. Her skin heated, tingled. Like a doe trapped in the lights of an oncoming car, she was unable to move a muscle as he lowered his head.

  His lips were hot, coaxing and utterly intoxicating. Chase lifted his head a fraction and Madeline heard a moan between them. She prayed it hadn’t come from her, was afraid that it had.

  And then she forgot about praying, forgot about thinking, as Chase lowered his head and covered her mouth once more.

  Three

  “I was wrong. Your skin’s even softer than I imagined. Like silk,” Chase said, tracing a line with his finger from her jaw to the corner of her mouth. His hand shook at the force of feelings rumbling inside of him. Not once in his thirtyfour years had a simple kiss rocked him so soundly. “A man could go crazy wondering if the rest of you is as soft as your mouth.” He smiled as a shudder went through her, and dipped his head for another taste.

  Madeline pushed lightly against his shoulders. Her fingers curled into his shirt. “Chase.”

  His name was a muffled whisper from her lips…her incredibly soft, moist lips that were as addictive as the hotel’s blueberry muffins. And infinitely sweeter.

  Damn, if he didn’t hear bells ringing. It was either that or a warning signal from his body, letting him know that it would never be satisfied with just a single kiss.

  “Chase,” she repeated. This time her hands were pressing against his chest, putting some space between them. “The telephone…it’s ringing.”

  As though to mock him, the phone jangled once more, then stopped, leaving only the sound of their own ragged breathing and the ticking of the clock to fill the silence. Opening his eyes, he felt reality come back to him in a rush.

  Chase swore silently and took a step back. What in the hell was I thinking of to kiss her like that? Hadn’t he already decided against it? Being attracted to Madeline Charbonnet was the last thing he wanted or needed in his life. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. It was a mistake.”

  “A mistake?”

  “Yes.” Irritated, confused, he wasn’t sure who he was angrier with—himself for kissing her or her for making him want to do it again. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her a second time. “It was inappropriate of me to kiss you.”

  “Inappropriate?” She repeated the word as though she had bitten into a lemon and found the taste sour.

  Chase cut a glance at her and noted the stubborn angle of her chin, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. Her outraged expression only added to his agitation. “You don’t have to go all prissy and proper on me, Princess. I’m sure I’m not the first man who’s kissed you. Hell, unless he’s a saint or a priest, any man from eight to eighty would be hard-pressed not to contemplate kissing you at least once.”

  Her eyes smoldered. “And you’re neither,” she said between clenched teeth.

  “No. I’m not.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “Look, I said I was sorry. Kissing you was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

  “You’re right. It was a mistake and it had better not happen again,” she replied, squaring her shoulders. Her breasts thrust against the jacket of her suit, burning him with thoughts of feeling them pressed against him.

  A burst of desire rocketed through him with the heat and speed of a shooting star. Cursing himself again for his reaction to her, Chase looked away, still not understanding or liking the fact that she affected him as she did.

  “There are laws against mauling female employees, Mr. McAllister,” Madeline continued in that sweet, prim voice of hers. “I hope you don’t make it a practice.”

  Chase whipped around at the accusation. “The ‘mauling’ wasn’t exactly one-sided, Ms. Charbonnet.”

  “You kissed me.”

  “And you kissed me back,” he countered, daring her to deny it and feeling a measure of satisfaction when she didn’t. “But just for the record the answer’s no. I don’t make a practice of becoming involved with people who work for me.”

  The comment brought her head snapping up again. Her eyes flashed with cold fury. “I don’t work for you.”

  “You work for the hotel. And like it or not, I’m in charge of the hotel.” Chase was irritated with himself and with her for pretending she hadn’t been equally affected by the kiss. He itched to kiss her again and wipe that snooty look off her face. But that would be another mistake, one he would be wise to avoid.

  That dainty little chin of hers rose another notch. “Funny, I thought you were merely an employee of Majestic Hotels—not the owner. In fact, I wasn’t even sure you had a title other than troubleshooter.”

  “Oh, I’ve got a whole string of titles, but troubleshooter fits well enough. Probably better than most of the others since I tend to enjoy trouble. You might even say I thrive on it.”

  She arched one dark brow. “Eliminating it or causing it?”

  “I’m very good at both.”

  “I’ll just bet you are,” she said, her voice as cool as her green eyes.

  It was the coolness that got to him. And he decided to push her a tad harder—partly because he wanted to watch those expressive eyes of hers shift from cold to hot, partly because he wanted to make sure that things between them wouldn’t go any further. Right now, that thought didn’t appeal to him—not when just looking at her set his hormones back two decades and had him feeling like a raw teenager again. So he pushed the buttons he was pretty sure would make her do the shoving. “And while it’s against my own personal policy to become involved with an employee, if you’re planning to resign anyway, I guess there’s no reason the two of us couldn’t engage in some good old-fashioned mutual lust.”

  Chase caught her hand before it made contact with his cheek. She tugged, but he held on to her wrist.

  Fury shimmered in her eyes. “Don’t hold your breath, McAllister. Despite what you’d like, I have no intention of resigning. And as for their being any mutual lust, not in this lifetime, buster.”

  “No?” He stroked his thumb across her wrist.

  Madeline averted her gaze to some point past his shoulder. “While I’ll admit to some elemental curiosity on my part—”

  “Curiosity?” He moved a fraction closer and smiled as her pulse skittered beneath his thumb.

  “All right, attraction,” she said, glaring at him. “For some perverse reason, I do find you attractive in the most basic animalistic sort of way. That’s why I allowed you to kiss me.”

  “You allowed me to kiss you,” he repeated in that same prim voice she had used.

  “Yes.”

  Chase chuckled. “Princess, I’ve got a news bulletin for you. Whether you like it or not, that kiss wasn’t one-sided.” He leaned even closer and saw the awareness register in her eyes. He didn’t bother to hide his grin of satisfaction, pleased that she was as affected by him as he was by her. “And as much as we both might like to repeat the experience, I’m afraid we’re not going to. You see, I meant what I said, I don’t believe in becoming involved with employees—even when the employee happens to be a sweet little Southern belle like yourself. But if you think resisting me is going to be a problem for you, I’ll certainly understand if you want to reconsider your decision to stay on at the hotel.”

  “Oh, I think I can resist you, Mr. McAllister.” She yanked her wrist fr
ee.

  “Think so?”

  “I know so,” she informed him.

  “You know, Princess, that almost sounds like a dare. Makes me tempted to prove you wrong. I can be quite charming when I set my mind to it.” He flashed her another grin.

  Her back went stiff as a board. “Then I suggest you save your so-called charm and killer smiles for another victim. Because I’m not interested.”

  “No?” he asked, moving his mouth within a whisper of hers.

  “No,” she said firmly, meeting his gaze. “You see, I’ve never been particularly fond of pork. And you really are a first-rate pig, McAllister. As for my resigning, don’t hold your breath.” The smile she gave him was as hard as day-old French bread. “Now unless you want to discover what it feels like to be kneed in the groin by this sweet Southern belle, I suggest you back off.”

  Chase stepped back instantly, never doubting for a second that she would make good on her threat if he didn’t.

  Madeline turned and jerked the door open.

  “Oh, and, Princess,” Chase said, staying her movement.

  “What?” she snapped impatiently.

  “Don’t forget about the staff meeting tomorrow morning. I’d hate to see you miss another one.”

  Madeline slipped in the rear door of the conference room and eased into an empty seat in the back row, just as her father began to speak.

  Punctual by nature, she felt foolish arriving late deliberately. No doubt doing so was a perverse reaction to Chase’s parting remark the previous afternoon. At least she had overcome her initial inclination not to come at all. That was probably what he had hoped she would do—give him a reason to dismiss her.

  Well, she had no intention of falling in with his plans. Now more than ever she was determined to stay on at the hotel, if for no other reason than to prove to her father and to Chase that they were both wrong about her. Not only was she capable of running the hotel, but she also was capable of resisting Chase McAllister.

  “I called this meeting today to thank each of you for your service and dedication to the Saint Charles Hotel. Many of you have been with the hotel and with the Charbonnet family for a great number of years…”

  Madeline tried to concentrate on her father’s remarks, but unerringly her gaze wandered from her father to Chase.

  He stood with his feet slightly apart, his hands clasped in front of him. Yesterday’s wrinkled shirt and soiled slacks had been exchanged for a dark olive suit that made his eyes appear more green than blue. The wheat-colored hair, although still too long to conform to what she considered acceptable in a hotel like the Saint Charles, had been neatly combed and tamed into place.

  Madeline looked at his hands, remembering the warmth and gentleness of those fingers as he had caressed her face. But his touch had not prepared her for the feel of his mouth hot and hungry against her own.

  Heat rushed to her cheeks at the memory of how completely she had given herself to him in that kiss. How could I have kissed him like that? With such abandon? With such wanton need?

  And the rat…he had known just how affected she had been by that kiss. She had seen it in his expression, had tasted it on his lips. Despite her protests, she had been stunned down to her toes and lost in the dizzying pleasure of Chase McAllister’s kiss.

  She had made a complete and utter fool of herself. And to make matters worse, the idiot had actually apologized for kissing her—which had only made her feel even more foolish, more embarrassed and angrier still.

  The man had an ego the size of the Mississippi River and her quick-fire response had fed it beautifully. What she wouldn’t give to be able to take him down a peg or two. Irritation simmering anew inside her, Madeline glanced up and studied his sinfully tanned face, his clever and tempting mouth. Her one and only consolation had been the nagging suspicion that he had been just as much caught off guard, just as shaken as she had been by the kiss.

  “And even though Majestic Hotels is now one of the owners of the Saint Charles, I want to assure you that nothing is going to change…”

  Madeline watched in fascination as that amused, confident glint in his eyes dimmed, then slipped into a frown that spread to his wicked mouth. A shiver of uneasiness shimmied down her spine as his expression hardened. She shifted her attention to the object of his gaze—her father.

  “This hotel has always been run by a Charbonnet,” her father continued, his voice booming. “It was run by my father and his father before him and I will continue…”

  Frustration came over Madeline in waves as her father went into his spiel about the unbroken line of Charbonnet males who had run the hotel. No matter how many times she heard the familiar tale, she still smarted at the injustice of not being allowed the same opportunity.

  But she had formulated some plans of her own during the long, sleepless night. While she could do nothing to negate Majestic’s ownership interest in the Saint Charles, she could make it work to her advantage. The hotel desperately needed an assistant general manager, and who better for the job than someone who knew and loved the property so intimately. Somehow, someway, she would convince the new owners and her father to give her that chance.

  And if that meant working with the insufferable Chase McAllister for the short time he would be here, then so be it. He wasn’t the first man she had encountered with more than his fair share of sex appeal. But, Lord, he was the first one whose kisses had proved lethal to her.

  As though he sensed her scrutiny, Chase turned and looked directly at her. Madeline swallowed, struck at first by the coldness in those blue eyes, then by the burst of heat and hunger as his gaze moved boldly over her face and mouth.

  A breath stuck in her throat. Her lungs refused to work. But not for the life of her would she feed his ego further by being the first to look away.

  “I will continue in my capacity as the hotel’s executive director and…”

  Chase slid his gaze back to her father, and Madeline was able to breathe again. As her heart rate returned to normal, she continued to study him. Judging from his expression, her father’s comments were not appreciated. Madeline rubbed her hands along her arms, unable to shake the feeling that her father had underestimated the man.

  “Thank you, Henri,” Chase said, coming up beside her father and taking command of the podium. “I would like to join Henri and add Majestic Hotels’ thanks for your service and dedication to the Saint Charles. I also would like to tell you about some of the changes that you can expect…”

  Ten minutes later after advising the staff of his firm’s investment in the hotel and in the employees, he ran through some of the changes that would be taking place not only in the hotel’s appearance but its method of operation as well. “And while there are no plans to cut back on staff, every expenditure, every salary has to be justified,” he said, looking directly at Madeline. “And anyone not pulling his or her weight, will be replaced.”

  Refusing to be intimidated, Madeline held his gaze and pulled one of his own tricks. She smiled at him.

  “Our mutual goal—”

  Chase’s hesitation and the shifting of his gaze was soothing balm to her ego.

  “Our mutual goal,” he began again, “is to restore the hotel to the first-class reputation and prosperity it once enjoyed. And with that restoration we hope that instead of layoffs we will be hiring additional employees.”

  A round of applause followed and then he opened the floor for questions. A hand went up from one of the new members of the sales staff. “Mr. McAllister, will you be overseeing just the accounting or will you be involved in the sales department, too?”

  Chase directed one of his killer-watt smiles toward the female, and Madeline knew without looking that the other woman was just short of falling at the man’s feet. She shifted in her seat, irritated by his easy charm.

  “I’ll be involved in all aspects of the hotel’s operation. The sales department has been doing a good job, but I think it can do better. I have several ide
as in that direction, and I plan to work closely with Madeline Charbonnet in the implementation of those ideas. I will also be working with Henri Charbonnet on the operation of the hotel.”

  A good job? Madeline gritted her teeth at his response. While no hotel operated at one-hundred-percent capacity, she and her department had worked small miracles keeping the hotel rooms filled, with occupancy rates often exceeding eighty percent. Did he have any idea what a difficult property this was to sell, particularly when she was competing with the big chains for convention and tourism business? She certainly didn’t need him to tell her how to do her job. Madeline stood up, not waiting for him to call upon her. “Mr. McAllister, just how long do you plan to be at the Saint Charles?” The sooner he went back to his East Coast offices the better.

  If he heard the challenge in her voice, he ignored it. His eyes twinkled with laughter. “As long as it takes to see the hotel through the renovations and get the operations on track.”

  “And can we assume that once the new systems are in place and the renovations have begun that you’ll be returning home?”

  “As I think I mentioned to you yesterday, Ms. Charbonnet, New Orleans is home for me.”

  Madeline’s heartbeat quickened. She licked her lips, trying not to panic. She didn’t want to think about that conversation yesterday or the sadness that had come into his eyes when he’d spoken of his mother. She especially didn’t want to remember the heated kisses that had followed. “But it was my understanding you wouldn’t be involved in the hotel’s operations on a day-to-day basis. I understood that once the new systems were implemented and the renovations underway you would be returning to your firm’s headquarters. I was told you would only need to return here on a monthly basis to check the hotel’s progress.”

  “That was the original idea. But there’s been a change of plans,” Chase said, delighting in the wariness that crept into her eyes. Damn, if that mouth of hers didn’t look even more kissable this morning. Dressed in her prim, checkered suit and silky white blouse, there was something sexy as hell about those pouty lips painted fire engine red.