Kitabı oku: «Run for Covers»
Didn’t Tori Ford think about anything but sex?
If answering the door wearing little more than a transparent robe over her lingerie was any indication, no, she did not. And that was bad news for Adam and his determination to remain strictly professional. He could pretend she was fully clothed—and hope she didn’t do anything more outrageous.
“Shall I come back later?” he asked in a voice that didn’t sound as raw-edged as he felt. Despite his intentions, his gaze drifted to her pouty lips pursed to kissable perfection. So tempting… He should have had the self-control to stop there.
He didn’t. His gaze fell to her breasts, barely concealed by her silky bra, to her slim waist, to the scrap of fabric that hardly qualified as panties.
The blood drained from his head so fast he felt dizzy. He immediately raised his eyes, catching Tori’s sexy smile.
“Actually, I need your help with the zipper of my dress.” She turned and walked into the room, treating him to a remarkable view of her backside.
This was one temptation he couldn’t resist.
Dear Reader,
I hope you’re enjoying my steamy miniseries FALLING INN BED…and the various ways that falling in bed can lead to falling in love.
After Laura and Dale (Hot Sheets, Blaze #153) finally gave in to their long-term lust, I decided to explore a case of “sparks at first sight.” After all, falling in love should be fun, and I’ve never met a man more in need of lightening up than Adam Grant. As the assistant general manager of the “most romantic getaway,” he has a responsibility to his guests, and himself, to get into the spirit of things.
Fortunately for Adam, reporter Tori Ford arrives to cover the Naughty Nuptials, and as it turns out, she’s not content to report what’s happening at Falling Inn Bed—she wants to experience the magic for herself. Now she just has to convince Adam to share that magic, too….
I hope you enjoy Tori and Adam’s love story. Let me know. Drop me a line at www.JeanieLondon.com. And look for Miranda and Troy’s story, Pillow Chase, Blaze #161, coming next month!
Very truly yours,
Jeanie London
Run for Covers
Jeanie London
To Stephanie Kondas. Thirteen seems like forever ago (it was?!) and I’ve appreciated every day of your friendship since. Now repeat after me, “We’re going to be *sskickin’ little old ladies who know how to have fun…in the very distant future!”
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Prologue
SEXUAL CHEMISTRY wasn’t a thing like champagne.
Tori Ford always knew what to expect when she poured a flute of her favorite beverage—perfectly chilled, a sugar cube tossed in because more fizz made that first sip burst over her tongue like tiny orgasms.
With sexual chemistry, on the other hand, she never knew quite what to expect. Fortunately, Tori liked surprises because her latest assignment had started off with a bang. She never expected to walk through the grand entrance of Falling Inn Bed, and Breakfast, known locally as Falling Inn Bed, and get caught up in the spirit of this romance resort so quickly.
Oh, she knew all about the place. No one who lived in Niagara Falls could have missed the rebirth of this historic property from failing hotel to winner of the prestigious Most Romantic Getaway Award, lauded by hospitality magazines and industry periodicals worldwide.
With a philosophy that translated into something like “Life belongs to lovers and lovers belong naked,” Falling Inn Bed backed up their stance with romance-themed suites designed to get couples feeling amorous. They even let staff members with titles such as the bedding consultant loose on their guests.
While a big proponent of anything promoting l’amour, Tori reserved opinion on the inn’s bedding consultant. She reserved opinion on a few things about her latest reporting assignment, actually—including walking through the door to a powerful case of lust at first sight. Yet one look at Adam Grant, the too-attractive assistant general manager, and the bulb on her lust-o-meter popped like a cork from a champagne bottle.
That the man looked like someone her family would approve of came as another surprise. Tori usually went for the rough-around-the-edges, daring and dangerous types who wouldn’t be welcomed within five miles of the family mansion.
But her family would have flung the doors wide for this one, with his neat sable hair and black eyes. His custom-tailored suit hugged his body like a glove. He was tall, handsome and too conservative with a composed air of self-assurance.
Adam made her itch to rough up the veneer of powerful male he wore along with his intense expression. And while his businesslike appearance and serious demeanor didn’t interest her, everything simmering below it did.
As a reporter, Tori’s observation skills were top notch. She recognized the calm deliberation in his gaze, the calculating mind, the tension in the impressive body that convinced her he was equally aware of her. But instead of checking her out, this guy locked his sex appeal tight under lock and key.
And then she knew exactly what it was about Adam Grant that interested her…well, besides his handsome face.
They were kindred souls.
Once upon a time, Tori’s every waking moment had been spent trying to live up to her family’s expectations. While her surname might be Ford, she was a member of the prestigious Prescott family compliments of her mother, and being a Prescott meant keeping up appearances at all costs. But she’d eventually realized that life was too precious to spend all her time worrying about living up to other people’s expectations.
She’d gotten smart.
People weren’t perfect—except for her mother and sister, who’d mastered the art of appearing that way. But at what cost? They didn’t take time to enjoy their lives. They always wore a smile for the press and never did anything that would risk starting any gossip. They never had any fun, and it was sucking the joy right out of them.
So she’d washed her hands of trying to live up to everyone else’s expectations and decided the only person she needed to satisfy was herself.
And that was why Adam had resonated so strongly with her—he clearly hadn’t learned yet that life was for living. They shared all this incredible chemistry, yet he wore his professionalism like armor.
Could she help him lighten up and enjoy himself?
Tori wanted to answer that question, along with a number of others about what was taking place behind the scenes at Falling Inn Bed. She finally had a chance to prove herself a competent reporter to her managing editor, who’d previously buried her on the municipal beat because she was the senator’s granddaughter.
Until meeting this too-composed man who made her mouth water, she wasn’t sure just how to prove herself, but now Tori knew exactly what she needed to do.
She needed to live the magic of Falling Inn Bed for herself. Then she’d report to her readers and bowl this town over with her journalistic skill and ability to sell newspapers.
And whom better to experience that magic with than the inn’s assistant general manager?
“If you’ll join me, Ms. Ford,” Adam Grant said in a rich, smoothly polished voice that rippled through her like the first sip of really fizzy champagne. “I’ll introduce you to the rest of the management team and bring you up to speed with where we are in the schedule of grand opening events.”
“It’ll be my pleasure to join you, Mr. Grant,” she said with just enough innuendo to blast his cool professionalism straight into personal.
One sable brow lifted before he schooled his expression. But control wasn’t meant to be part of this equation. When he touched her elbow to guide her down a hallway marked Business Offices, Tori felt wired to the man with a current. A quick glance into his dark gaze assured her he felt it, too.
Sometimes, there was just no explaining chemistry. And most of the time, there was no resisting it.
Tori wondered if Adam Grant knew that.
Giving him a smile that said Run for cover!, she felt another thrill when a tiny frown appeared between his brows, a look that convinced her he was expecting the worst from her.
No, this assignment wasn’t turning out to be anything at all like champagne….
1
DIDN’T TORI Ford think about anything but sex?
Adam Grant wished she would, but the local reporter who’d unexpectedly become his escort for the duration of this grand opening didn’t seem interested in much else. She’d made it her life’s quest to teach him to have fun, and sex apparently topped her list of fun pastimes.
While he generally appreciated ambitious, focused women, Tori Ford was beyond ambitious and focused. She was outrageous. Not only had she promised to do whatever it took to get her story, she wanted to experience that story for herself.
She wanted to live the magic of Falling Inn Bed, and Breakfast with him.
Adam didn’t get personal with guests or co-workers, and in her current capacity, Tori Ford qualified as the latter.
So here he was, trying to run interference so the grand opening won good reviews, and this reporter’s no-holds-barred tenacity went head-to-head with his no-holds-barred professionalism. Adam had a strict business ethic, honed at the knees of the elderly grandparents who’d raised him.
Business was business. Personal was personal.
By separating the two, his grandparents had run a successful manufacturing operation for over half a century while keeping their marriage equally successful.
He wouldn’t mix business with pleasure. And certainly not with a woman only interested in living her story.
Unfortunately, keeping business and pleasure separated during this grand opening was proving to be a problem. The promotional event inaugurating the new Wedding Wing had been dubbed the Naughty Nuptials for good reason. Every function was designed exclusively for couples, with sex front and center.
The harder he tried to keep their relationship professional in the face of all that sex, the more Tori Ford kept trying to get personal. She saw everything as an opportunity to taunt him into joining the fun.
Like now, for example. While the featured bridal couple posed for photos after the ceremony, Tori had slipped away to her suite to freshen her makeup.
Or so she’d said.
Most women Adam knew didn’t undress to put on mascara, and when he returned to accompany her to the reception, Tori opened her door about as undressed as she could be short of greeting him in the buff. The beaded gown she’d worn to the wedding had been replaced by a transparent robe.
Equally transparent was her ploy to breach the boundaries of professional behavior. Looking back, Adam supposed any request to visit her suite should have been suspect. She’d been using these ploys often enough in the two days of their acquaintance, each time upping the stakes.
Tori Ford scored a big hit this time.
She even looked like sex. All creamy skin and vibrant red hair, she tempted him with slim curves covered in barely there undergarments. The robe only reached the top of her thighs and hung open to reveal more than it concealed.
He was thinking personal now. Despite himself, his gaze dropped from the tumble of bright hair to the beautiful face where midnight-blue eyes watched him and pouty lips pursed to kissable perfection.
She wore a necklace of unusual design. Swirls of gold encircled her neck, with a solitary teardrop emerald dangling toward her cleavage. The silky bra clung to her breasts, muting blush-colored nipples but doing nothing to hide the tight tips pointing to needy little peaks.
He should have had enough self-control to stop there.
He didn’t. Adam tortured himself further by skimming his gaze down that expanse of slim waist and smooth stomach to the scrap of matching fabric that hardly qualified as panties. The filmy triangle rode low, directing his attention to the juncture of sleek thighs, where he could detect the faintest hint of golden-red hair beneath.
The blood drained from his head so fast he felt dizzy.
And still Adam couldn’t stop. He was human, after all, and even worse, he hadn’t had sex since his ex-fiancée had broken off their engagement, prompting his move across the country to take this management position at Falling Inn Bed, and Breakfast.
Right now he wished he’d never left Seattle.
Yet the career move had seemed a good opportunity at the time, before he faced Tori’s shapely legs showcased on strappy high heels and her determination to get him into bed.
Sweeping his gaze over her again, he said in a voice that didn’t sound as raw-edged as he felt, “Shall I come back later?”
He would not let her know she’d scored a hit.
“No need. I was just taking a breather. Don’t let anyone ever tell you beaded gowns aren’t heavy.” She fanned herself with a manicured hand. “It’s warm in here. How is it out there?”
“The temperature’s fine, Ms. Ford.” Nothing wrong with the inn’s climate control system, despite the summer heat.
His body temperature proved a different matter.
“I keep asking you to call me Tori.” She flashed him an exasperated smile. “Why don’t you come in? I won’t take long.”
Though she issued her invitation casually, Adam recognized this maneuver for what it was—another move toward personal.
If she could get him inside the Wedding Knight Suite, they’d be a step closer to the bed. And with her looking the way she did, she’d keep him awake all night.
The memory of her in that robe would keep him awake tonight anyway, but he wouldn’t tip his hand to Tori. Not when he’d declined to participate in her contest of wills. Regardless of how much his body urged him otherwise.
“I’ll wait out here for you.”
“In the hallway?”
He inclined his head, not offering further explanation. He’d already established where he stood on this issue, and wouldn’t play her game by rationalizing his decision. To do so would only imply she might sway him the other way. She couldn’t.
Leaving the door open wide, she turned and walked away, treating him to a remarkable view of her backside. The see-through robe made it impossible not to notice how the T-back panties disappeared between her shapely cheeks, and combined with those nicely toned thighs… His body heat went on the rise again.
Letting his eyes drift shut, Adam inhaled deeply and willed his body to behave, implementing a cleansing technique he used before working out. Karate was his sport of choice and at the moment, he appreciated the strict discipline it demanded. Another deep breath tempered the memory of a half-naked Tori Ford. Slowly the tension receded, and his body came firmly back into his grasp.
Opening his eyes, Adam straightened his tie and waited, as prepared for her next move as he’d ever be. Reformulating his game plan proved more difficult. He simply didn’t understand this woman. Why she thought he needed rescuing from a dreary existence was a mystery. True, work had taken up most of his time since he’d made the move to Niagara Falls, but that was normal when establishing a new career path.
And he’d done nothing to encourage her interest. In fact, he’d resisted her every attempt to engage him—and she’d made many. Since they’d met, she’d been teasing him and trying to provoke a reaction. Yes, they had chemistry, but that didn’t mean they had to act on it.
Unfortunately, the not acting kept getting tougher. He couldn’t help wondering what Tori’s next move would be, and they were only a couple of days into this grand opening. Naughty Nuptials comprised three weeks of events. When Wild, Wild Weddings concluded after tonight’s reception, he still had to survive Risqué Receptions and Hottest Honeymoons.
Somehow, Adam would manage. Tori Ford might be determined to get her scoop on the inn, but he was equally determined to prove this establishment, despite its status as a romance resort, conducted business on the level. Promoting romance between couples wasn’t synonymous with orgies in the main lobby, and Adam would make sure she understood the difference.
Of course, he wasn’t always clear on the difference himself…especially since the focus of the Naughty Nuptials was sex, which likely explained why he reacted to this woman with a need testing his restraint.
And almost as if she wanted to prove the point, Tori reappeared, looking sultry in a beaded green gown that clung lazily to her curves. Spangles flashed with every step, and he inhaled another cleansing breath to shore up his defenses.
Even with her clothes on, this woman looked like sex.
“Will you give me a hand?” She turned and presented her back with its open zipper. Lifting her hair, she moved close enough to bombard him with her subtly spicy fragrance. “Do you mind?”
Yes.
Clearly this was another power play—one he wouldn’t let her win. Not when he came face-to-face with all that bare skin. Not when he knew she’d managed to get her zipper down without assistance in the first place. He wouldn’t let her see how that one touch made his every thought zero in on his fingertips.
Chemistry practically crackled between them. Every sense honed in on the texture of her skin. Every nerve kicked into hyperalert and only his skill at self-discipline saved him from a reaction that otherwise would have leveled him.
He dragged the zipper up, an action that felt like an intimacy they shouldn’t be sharing. But not according to Tori, who clearly enjoyed liquefying professional boundaries with her suggestive smiles and constant innuendo.
Adam knew better than to show this woman weakness. One slip and she’d move in for the kill. He didn’t care to test his ability to resist her under extreme conditions.
More extreme than these, anyway.
Tugging the zipper into place, he put a much-needed step between them and felt a lot more relief than he should have for a man who’d decided not to play her seduction game.
“Did you fasten the eye hook?” she asked, her voice a hushed whisper between them.
If Adam hadn’t been struggling so hard to rein back, he might have enjoyed knowing he wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of her little game.
He was working hard to keep his expression neutral when she peeked a sultry gaze from beneath the fall of wild hair.
“If you don’t fasten the eye hook, the zipper will creep down. I might wind up flashing everyone at the reception.”
Now there was another vision to haunt him. This beautiful woman swaying to the music on the dance floor. The heavily beaded gown slithering into a puddle at her feet. Those filmy undergarments and all that skin…and two hundred surprised guests enjoying the show.
As Adam wasn’t partial to exhibition fetishes—or any fetishes at all, for that matter—he reached for the eye hook.
The fastener proved a test for his supersize fingers. What should have been a fast fix became a series of awkward efforts that brought more skin against skin until his careful expression melted into a scowl.
Tori pulled her hair higher and leaned into the light to assist his efforts, but all she did was flood his senses with the scent of her hair and that underlying spicy fragrance.
She distracted him and, in the process, undermined his efforts to finish this task and make his getaway. By the time he forced the microscopic hook through the metal loop, his fingers had grown stiff with frustration.
“There you go.” Not even his usual rock-steady discipline could keep the triumph, and relief, from his voice.
If Adam expected Tori to gloat, he miscalculated her response. She leaped on her advantage by firing again.
Shaking her hair out, she tumbled cloudlike waves over her shoulders and sent another blast of enticing fragrance his way. “Thank you.”
He only nodded and stepped farther into the hallway, as much to clear his senses of her provocative scent as to prompt her to action. Right now, he needed two hundred reception guests to remind him he should be working. He made a mental note to avoid being alone with this woman again.
“What’s on the agenda this afternoon?” He steered the conversation where it belonged. “And more importantly, how can I facilitate your work?”
“Helping me dress was a big help.”
She issued that with such a straight face he felt the urge to smile. Pulling the suite door closed, Tori sidled close and slipped her arm through his.
“We’re going to have fun today, Adam. You have heard that word before, haven’t you?”
She gazed up into his face with those big blue eyes but never gave him a chance to reply. “We’re going to drink champagne and dance and watch other people drink champagne and dance. We’re going to toast your honorary couple, and, with any luck, I’ll catch the bouquet and you’ll catch the garter. Will you slide it up my leg with your teeth, if you do?”
“Work fits in where exactly? I was under the impression you had a scoop to find and daily deadlines to keep.”
“I do, but my job is to report on your grand opening functions. To do that, I have to interact with your guests. Didn’t you read my article in this morning’s paper?”
“I did. You reported on last night’s rehearsal dinner. You played up the excitement of the event and the romance of how our featured bridal couple became engaged while they built the Wedding Wing.” Directing her toward the elevator, he disentangled his arm to press the button, then clasped his hands behind his back to wait.
Tori frowned, assuring him that she hadn’t missed his getaway. “I also explained that today’s wedding would conclude the first week of your grand opening and officially start the second. Since I’ll have the feature in tomorrow’s paper, I left my readership hanging to find out what happens.”
“Is that why you mentioned our unexpected guests?” he asked, referring to her parents’ last-minute addition to the rehearsal dinner guest list.
“My parents weren’t the only gate-crashers. Your bedding consultant’s parents showed up, too, which meant I had area news of interest to report.” She must have seen something in his expression because she asked, “You don’t agree?”
“No, I don’t.”
She gave a slight shrug that made those red waves shimmer in the overhead light. “That might explain why you’re a hotel manager and not a reporter.”
He didn’t get a chance to respond before the elevator beeped and the door slid open. They entered beside another couple Adam recognized as wedding guests.
“Heading back to the wedding?” he asked.
The man nodded, and Adam inquired about their accommodations, dissuading Tori from continuing their discussion until they were alone again.
When the doors opened, the Wedding Wing lobby appeared before them. He held the door while the guests exited before joining Tori, who picked up right where they’d left off.
“You’re not from Niagara Falls. Trust me when I say your unexpected guests last night are news around here. People gobble up any mention of my family. Take a look at our society page someday. Every other paragraph has the name Prescott in it. It’s a side effect of being related to politicians. When my family and your bedding consultant’s family are together in the same room, it’s news. I was simply writing to my audience.”
She motioned to the life-size painting showcased in the lobby. “Your bedding consultant knows how to use the press to her advantage, too. That’s why she arranged the loan of the Falling Woman from Westfalls. To create spin. She told me so herself.”
Adam followed her gaze, unable to argue the point because his co-worker Laura Granger—the inn’s bedding consultant and the woman who’d conceptualized the Wedding Wing—had acquired the painting to stir up interest in the Naughty Nuptials.
This had been a noteworthy acquisition because the artist, a French woman named Mireille Marceaux, was apparently a local mystery. Adam glanced at the painting, a woman surrounded by a summer-green forest and mist from the falls.
“I still can’t believe she managed to get this painting on loan. Talk about using personal connections,” Tori said, referring to Laura’s status as friend to the headmistress of the exclusive preparatory school that owned the painting.
Adam nodded, but as he gazed at the painting he noticed something he hadn’t before. The redheaded semi-nude reminded him of the brash young reporter standing by his side. Something about the way the red hair, refined facial features and delicate curves came together struck him as similar.
Of course, this shouldn’t come as a surprise. The sight of Tori Ford in that skimpy robe still burned in his brain. Like the Falling Woman, she was the stuff fantasies were made of and he wasn’t likely to forget the sight any time soon.
“Laura’s acquisition of this painting was a promotional stunt, but I don’t believe it falls under the same heading as gossiping about our guests in print.”
“Gossiping? Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?”
He shook his head. “You’re capitalizing on a decades-old feud between your family and Laura’s, as well as your connection to the senator. That strikes me as sensationalism.”
“It’s Laura’s job to create public interest in her Wedding Wing. It’s my job to create public interest so my readers buy newspapers. People around here enjoy reading about our families, so where’s the difference?”
If Tori didn’t understand, Adam wasn’t about to debate the point. He would have thought Senator Prescott’s youngest granddaughter would have been more concerned about where she directed her media attention. Apparently not.
But while he was entitled to his opinion, Adam wouldn’t purposely antagonize the woman responsible for the reviews on the Naughty Nuptials. Upon learning the Niagara Falls Journal would be sending her estranged cousin to cover the events, Laura, his normally professional, if somewhat quirky co-worker, had told management about her troubled history with the senator’s family. These families were so estranged, in fact, that Laura had feared coverage would be biased as a result.
Falling Inn Bed, and Breakfast needed rave reviews, so Adam was doing his best to earn them. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been assigned to this job because he was the best fit, but because he was the only male on the executive management staff who could escort Tori Ford to couple events.
He intended to enforce what damage control he could and, at the very least, not make matters worse. But he hadn’t counted on Tori turning him into her pet project, either.
“We’d prefer the inn to attract interest on its own merit,” he said to segue through the stiff moment. “Surely you can understand that.”
While Tori might have understood, he could tell by the way she notched her chin that she didn’t agree. And he didn’t give her a chance to embroil him in another debate. Touching her elbow, he guided her toward the grand ballroom, where the Wallace/Marsh reception currently was taking place. She moved along by his side without further comment, and he greeted the ushers posted at the main entrance before escorting her inside.
Laura had indeed outdone herself with this event. The ballroom boasted a sweeping wall of doors that opened onto a forest. With the June sun streaming through, the wedding party and guests looked like a scene on a postcard in the inn’s novelty shop.
Adam had been on the property for over ten months now, yet sometimes the place still caught him by surprise with its unique combination of nineteenth-century grandeur and atmosphere.
And sex.
It was subtle, but everywhere. Glancing up at the ornate friezes separating lofty ceilings from gleaming white walls, he recognized the whimsical sculptures depicting couples with limbs entwined. Mouths and hips thrusting. Rubenesque women in varying degrees of nudity looking dreamy and sated as they pleasured their equally nude men.
Then again, perhaps the sex around here wasn’t always so subtle. Adam thought about the restaurant’s grand opening specialty menu with its bold header scrawled across the front—Inter Courses. And the inn’s promotional materials weren’t much better. The lineup of romance-themed suites in the main hotel boasted names like the Demimondaine’s Boudoir and the Wild West Brothel. The new Wedding Wing had followed tradition with honeymoon suites called the Egyptian Pleasure Pyramid and the Cast-away Honeymoon Isle.
His current charge had been installed in the Wedding Knight Suite, which reminded Adam of a sex dungeon with its Dark Ages furnishings and handy supply of bondage gadgets. Even the bed had a choose-your-pleasure theme, with specialty sheets like the Kama Sutra Sports Set and the Fetish Collection.
“Looks like the receiving line has finished and the bridal couple are gearing up for their first dance,” Adam said. “So where to first, Ms. Ford?”
Tori scanned the crowd, her gaze darting from her photographer, who snapped shots of the bridal couple, to the sidelines, where Laura stood applauding with the Wedding Wing architect. “To the bar. I can’t mingle without champagne.”
Together they skirted the edges of the crowd, and Adam greeted the elderly bartender. “Hello, Clyde. Ms. Ford would like a drink.”
Clyde had a head full of cottony hair and a quick smile that flashed against his wrinkled black skin. “What’s your pleasure today?” he asked Tori.
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