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  And incredibly arousing, Chase decided, as she flicked her tongue in and out to moisten her lips. “I’ll be staying on until the renovations are completed and the hotel’s grand opening celebration is held in the fall,” he explained.

  “But that’s at least six months away,” Madeline replied.

  “Yes, it is.” And an interesting six months it was going to be, Chase decided, as he continued to field questions. When Jamison, Majestic’s chairman, had suggested that he stay on-site for the duration of the hotel’s renovations, he had been opposed. But after a few days’ observance of Henri Charbonnet’s spending habits, he had to admit that it would take more than monthly financial meetings and reports to keep the hotel within budget. Since he had been the one to bring the Saint Charles deal to the table, and had a vested interest of his own in the project, it only made sense that he be the one to stay on and oversee it.

  Being the one to shorten Henri Charbonnet’s leash would be a headache and a pleasure, but it was one he had looked forward to for a long time.

  And the daughter? His gaze drifted back to Madeline and he found himself contemplating another taste of her lips. She was the source of another kind of ache altogether.

  That’s the price you pay for eight months of self-imposed celibacy, McAllister. But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t entirely true. Despite the line he had fed Madeline yesterday, he had never been a man to engage in meaningless sex for sex’s sake. And while it had been some time since his last relationship had ended, abstinence didn’t even be gin to explain his response to her.

  No. Madeline Charbonnet would have been a difficult specimen to resist under the best of circumstances. It was just his rotten luck that the first female he felt tempted by m ages would turn out to be Henri Charbonnet’s daughter.

  Trouble. That’s what a relationship with Madeline Charbonnet would mean. And if she stayed on at the hotel as he suspected she would, it was just a matter of time before the two of them landed in bed. It was inevitable. He had come to that conclusion during the night. And to fight the inevitable would be pointless. So, the two of them might as well enjoy it.

  Chase smiled and turned his gaze back to the green-eyed siren sitting stiff and straight in her chair. She arched her brow in that duchess-to-peasant manner.

  It was all the challenge he needed. Chase winked at her, then shifted his attention to the staff. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, if there are no other questions, I suggest we all get back to work. We have a hotel to run.”

  And he had an old score to settle and a sweet, tempting piece of trouble that he was looking forward to coaxing into his bed.

  Four

  “Come in,” Chase called out in response to the knock at his office door.

  “Ellen wasn’t at her desk,” Madeline explained, hesitating in the doorway.

  He glanced up from the computer screen. “I know. She wasn’t feeling well, so I sent her home. Come on in.” The figures he had been reviewing became a forgotten jumble as he took in the sight of her.

  Today’s outfit was yet another suit, Chase noted and he wondered idly just how many of the things she owned. Navy with round gold buttons and braid trim, this particular number reminded him of a military uniform. Albeit, he had never seen a uniform filled out quite so nicely, he mused, a smile of appreciation twitching at his lips. Nor had he seen any uniform that had been cut to dip at the waist and skim several inches above the knees to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of thigh.

  She walked across the almond-colored carpet, and Chase couldn’t help but notice the gentle sway of her hips as she moved.

  “I had a message on my desk that you wanted to see me,” she said stiffly.

  “That’s right,” Chase replied, reluctantly shifting his attention from her legs to her face. Judging from the rigid line of her stance and the coolness in her expression, she had noted his scrutiny and hadn’t appreciated it. He definitely intended to work on changing her mind on that score. But for now, it was back to business. “I wanted to go over the budget and projections you submitted for your department. Just give me a minute to finish this report and then we’ll get started. Have a seat.” He motioned to the chair across from his desk, then went back to punching numbers into the terminal.

  Chase stared at the computer screen, but he was keenly aware of Madeline seated across from him. Forcing himself to concentrate, he plugged in more figures and watched them pop up on the screen. She shifted in her seat. Unable to resist, Chase slanted another glance her way. She had crossed her legs, and the toe of one navy pump tapped at the empty air impatiently. Chase slid his gaze up the long hosecovered leg and smiled. The one good thing about her suits, he thought as he admired the view, the skirts always offered him a glimpse of her legs.

  Suddenly Madeline’s foot stilled. She uncrossed her legs and stood. “Listen, I have some sales calls to return, and since you’re obviously busy, too, maybe it would be better if you just sent me a memo with your comments about the report and I’ll get back to you.”

  Chase sighed. Sitting back in his chair, he steepled his fingers and looked up at Madeline. The woman reminded him of a skittish colt. By all means a Thoroughbred—with her mane of dark hair and jewel-colored eyes—but skittish all the same. He looked at those pouty lips. Desire stirred, then twisted in his gut as he remembered that combination of sweetness and heat when he had kissed her. He slanted his gaze to her eyes and caught the flicker of awareness.

  So she remembered the kiss, too.

  And it made her nervous.

  He made her nervous, Chase amended as he watched the wariness creep into her expressive eyes.

  Good, he thought, pleased by the realization. At least he hadn’t been the only one whose thoughts had been disrupted by the memory of that kiss. He had found himself eager to repeat the experience just to see if it had been as explosive as he remembered. His conscience, coupled with the demands on his time, had prevented him from following through. Guilt over the prospect of seducing her while he set out to destroy her father had made him question his decision to do so. The implementation of the new systems, entertaining proposals on the renovations and two trips back to New Jersey had settled the matter for him. At least, he had thought so.

  Until now.

  Up until now he had managed barely more than a few words with her during the past few weeks. And except for an occasional glimpse of her about the hotel, he had seen far less of Madeline Charbonnet than he had expected. What surprised him was how frequently she had inserted herself into his thoughts—a rarity for him, considering the fact that women usually garnered his attention only for the period of time they spent in his company.

  Not so with Madeline. Even when she wasn’t around or taking up space in his thoughts, she made her presence felt. From what he had observed, Madeline was the Charbonnet the employees turned to when a problem arose—not her father. Madeline was the one everyone went to for answers. Charbonnet had been foolish not to let his daughter take over the hotel. If he had, she might have been able to save him. Lucky for him the old man hadn’t.

  “I’ll just check my In box this afternoon and get back to you as soon as—”

  “Oh, I think we can dispense with the memos and save a few trees,” Chase offered. He watched her hand clench, then unclench to smooth the line of her skirt. Yes, he definitely made Madeline Charbonnet nervous. Now that he thought about it, he wondered if their lack of contact had been by design. Had she been avoiding him? Conveniently slipping out of her department or the hotel on sales calls whenever he was around? If so, her running days were over. “Besides, I much prefer dealing with you in person than on paper.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What about your report?” She inclined her head to the computer screen.

  “Done.” To emphasize his point, he hit the Command button, and the printer across the room began spitting out pages. “Have a seat.”

  When Madeline did so without arguing, Chase couldn’t resist teasing, “What, no arg
ument?”

  Her green eyes flashed. “Would it do any good?”

  “No,” he agreed and offered her another smile. “I guess we’re getting to know each other after all.”

  “You said you wanted to discuss my department’s budget,” Madeline said, her expression as chilly as her tone.

  “I do.” Chase retrieved the folder that held the report she had prepared, outlining her department’s projected sales and expenditures for the next twelve months. He removed it from the file and placed it on his desk.

  “Is there a problem?” she asked, a hint of concern lacing her voice. Chase noted that her eyes had darted to the report and zeroed in on the items circled in red.

  “Just a few questions.”

  “If you’re worried I’ve overestimated the sales projections to make myself look good, I assure you I haven’t. I didn’t just pull those figures out of the sky. Those numbers are based on past business and a nominal share of what I believe we can realistically anticipate getting from the convention market.” Moving to the edge of her seat, she continued, “I went through the Tourist Commission’s list of conventions for the next twelve months, the number of visitors they anticipate coming to the city and the number of rooms that will be needed. While you may think my figures seem a bit optimistic, I’m confident we can hit those numbers.”

  “So am I. In fact, I’d be surprised if you didn’t surpass them.”

  That seemed to take the starch out of her sails. She leaned back in her seat, but remained silent.

  “The truth is, I thought your projections were more cautious than optimistic. But that’s not what I wanted to discuss with you.” He flipped through the report and found the real items that had snagged his attention and made him send for her. “I was more interested in some of the expenditures you’ve projected for the department. There seemed to be quite a number of items coded to sales marketing that don’t directly involve any advertising.”

  “Not all of the hotel’s marketing is done in newspaper and magazine ads.”

  “I’m aware of that. But you have quite a number of entertainment expenses, membership dues and charitable donations in your marketing budget. I wondered how relative they were to selling rooms at the hotel.”

  Something wicked gleamed in her eyes. The trace of a smile played about her lips. “You’d be surprised just how relative those entertainment expenditures and donations are to the hotel’s business. Obviously you aren’t familiar with the way business is done here.”

  “Why don’t you enlighten me.”

  “All right, I will,” she told him, seeming to grow more confident with each second that passed. “It’s quite simple, really. This is an upscale hotel that caters to a distinguished clientele—clientele who belong to select organizations.”

  “You mean rich people.”

  “I mean individuals with discerning tastes who want more services and amenities than the average chain hotel can offer them and are willing to pay for it,” she informed him.

  “Go on.”

  “A large portion of that clientele happen to be locals. They belong to prominent organizations and prefer to do business with fellow members when they can. Most of them also have some pet cause or another that they support. In exchange for donations to their various causes, the hotel receives their patronage in the form of bookings from their businesses and their out-of-town clients.”

  “In other words you need to be one of the gang.”

  “For the most part,” Madeline agreed.

  “And you don’t think the hotel would get that patronage without those memberships and donations?” Chase asked, not bothering to hide his cynicism.

  “I know we wouldn’t.” She met his gaze evenly, confidently. “You may think you know everything there is to know about the hotel business, McAllister, but you’ve never done business in this city before. That old adage ‘It’s not what you know, but who you know’ could have been penned with New Orleans in mind. The people here are close-knit. They might welcome your tourist dollars, but they won’t offer you or any outsider an easy entrée into the community.”

  Chase laughed at the dig. “Oh, I’m very much aware of how the locals, particularly those in the mainstream of society, close ranks to outsiders like me. But you forget, Madeline, I have you and your father—members of that close-knit little social circle—to smooth the way for me.”

  Madeline sat silent and stone-faced across from him, and he couldn’t resist the urge to shake that composure of hers. “And any smoothing that you can’t do, the money Majestic will be pumping into the local economy for the renovation project should do the trick.” He leaned forward in his chair. “But make no mistake. I intend not only to retain this hotel’s current client base, but to expand it. I also intend to capture a much larger share of the convention trade. In fact, doing so will be part of the director of sales job. Your job. So, if you’re not up to the task, you’d better let me know now.”

  The smile she gave him was laced with saccharine. “Like I told you before, McAllister, I’m not going anywhere—not without a fight. And as for earning my salary, don’t worry, I will.”

  “I intend to see that you do.”

  “I never doubted for a second that you would,” she returned evenly. “Now did you really have some questions or did you call me here just to deliver your little threat?”

  “I never make threats, Princess. Only promises.”

  She shrugged.

  The gesture was cool, disdainful and made him want to grab that stubborn jaw of hers, cover her pouty mouth with his own and watch the prim princess turn to fire in his arms. Instead, he picked up the report. “But in answer to your question, yes. I do have some questions.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like this twenty-five hundred dollars allocated to the sales department for the REX dinner party. If my memory serves me correctly, REX is the carnival organization your father belongs to, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.” She tossed up her chin. “What of it?”

  Her cool little reply irritated him more than it should have. Or maybe it was the thought of Henri Charbonnet using the hotel and its assets for his own purposes the same way he used people. The same way he had once used Katie McAllister. Chase leaned forward. “So how do you justify charging off a twenty-five-hundred-dollar dinner party for your father’s carnival club cronies as a promotional expense?” he asked, pleased at the deceptive softness of his tone, given the strong feelings racing through him. It was this kind of abuse that he was looking forward to bringing to an end. He didn’t want to see Madeline get caught in the cross fire. But if she did, then so be it.

  “I justify it by telling you that the men who attend that party are among the wealthiest and most influential in the city. They have the ability to send tens of thousands of dollars to this hotel in room nights and catering functions.”

  “And how many room nights and catering functions do they send to the hotel? How much return does the hotel get in exchange for wining and dining your father’s cronies?”

  Madeline hesitated. “I don’t know exactly. I would need to check the sales figures and catering reports from last year’s bookings and—”

  “Don’t bother.” He already knew the return was minimal. And it galled him to hear Madeline scramble to cover for her father. What disturbed him even more was the fact that he found her loyalty so appealing. “I’ve already deleted it from your department’s budget.”

  “You can’t do that,” she said, coming to her feet.

  “I already have. As an owner, your father can allocate a limited amount of money for marketing. I’ve moved the dinner party to that account, and the cost for it will come out of his budget—not the sales department’s.”

  “Fine,” she said, her voice flat. “Were there any other questions you had about my department’s budget? Or perhaps I should ask if there are any other decisions you’ve already made that you’d like to share with me.”

  Chase to
ssed down the report and sat back, taking in the stubborn tilt of her chin, the defiance flashing in those green eyes. He couldn’t help wondering what those eyes would look like simmering with passion instead of anger. He intended to find out. “Princess, there are quite a number of things I’d like to share with you,” he said smiling. “And the department’s budget isn’t one of them.”

  She looked so regal staring down her pretty nose at him, and damn if he didn’t find even her haughtiness a turn on. Chase shifted in his seat, regretting that he didn’t have the time to pursue those other things with her now. He fully intended to do so later. “But right now, I have a few more questions about the budget.”

  Thirty minutes later Chase sat back in his chair, more than a little impressed with Madeline Charbonnet, and unaccountably annoyed by her at the same time. Except for the dinner party for her father and his cronies, every expenditure had been carefully researched and chosen to produce maximum benefit and exposure for the hotel. Each item would bring a healthy return on the dollar. She had answered each of his questions politely and professionally, showing none of the heat of their initial exchange.

  Damn it. He preferred the hot-tempered brunette with fire in her eyes to this cool-as-ice businesswoman seated across from him.

  “As you’ve so kindly pointed out to me, the hotel is a business. So unless you have any more items that need an explanation, I’ll get back to work now. I certainly want to be sure that I earn my salary.” Madeline stood.

  “Just a minute.”

  She paused.

  “What about this donation you listed here for the Historic Preservation Society.”

  Madeline sighed, the soft sound a small measure of irritation. “It’s a simple donation, McAllister. It’s for the society’s annual benefit gala. We’ve always participated in the event and the society was instrumental in having the Saint Charles declared an historic landmark several years ago. The organizers are very old-monied New Orleanians. Most of them are clients of the hotel. I can assure you the hotel gets a fair return for the donation, not to mention some good press.”