Backfire

The black-and-white newspaper photographs he had seen of her through the years—clips of her as a debutante, a maid for the old-line carnival clubs and society darling—none had done justice to the woman who stood before him. They hadn’t revealed that the lips now pressed together in a tight line were so full and sensuous or that the eyes set in that perfect oval face were such a deep green. The newspaper photographs certainly hadn’t prepared him for the fact that those green eyes would be a mirror of everything she was feeling.

And right now, judging from the fire flashing in those emerald gems, Chase had no doubt that Madeline Charbonnet would like nothing better than to deck him.

The thought amused him and Chase smiled, which only seemed to make those eyes of hers grow even darker. But he had to give her credit because instead of slugging him, she extended her hand. “Mr. McAllister,” she said, her voice as cool as the February wind that whipped at the flags flying outside of the hotel.

Chase bit back the urge to laugh at the regal tilt of her chin. “Ms. Charbonnet. It’s a pleasure. And please, call me Chase.” Damn if her skin wasn’t every bit as silky and soft as he had imagined. She even smelled like roses.

And no doubt she came with her own supply of thorns, a voice inside Chase warned. Before he could dwell on that thought further, the ear-piercing shrill of a microphone being flipped on sliced through the room.

Madeline pulled her hand free. She took a step back, then turned to Charbonnet. “Father, I believe they’re ready for you and Mr. McAllister to take your positions at the podium,” she told him.

“Would you like to join your father and me at the podium for the announcement?” Chase asked.

“No.” Madeline’s faced flushed an angry red. “Thank you, but no. The Saint Charles belongs to my father and…and to Majestic Hotels.”

“I know. But you’re still welcome—”

“Mr. McAllister, I don’t want to join you and my father at the podium. If it had been my decision, there would be no need for an announcement today.”

“Madeline, that’s enough,” Henri Charbonnet said firmly.

So the reporter had been right. Madeline Charbonnet hadn’t been happy about her father’s decision to sell. In fact, she was out-and-out furious.

“Madeline, apologize to Mr. McAllister for your rudeness,” Henri ordered.

Madeline looked as though her father had slapped her. She tipped up her chin. “I have nothing to apologize for. Mr. McAllister and his firm have no right to own a part of the Saint Charles. It belongs—”

“Madeline Claire—”

Chase touched the other man’s shoulder. “Forget it, Charbonnet. It doesn’t matter.” Guilt prickled at Chase momentarily, but he pushed it aside. Charbonnet was the one who had robbed her of her legacy. Not him. He had merely supplied the means. The fact that the deal would serve his own purposes didn’t matter. Ignoring the shimmer of tears in her eyes, Chase hardened his heart. “Then I guess it’s fortunate for Majestic Hotels and me that the decision to sell the Saint Charles wasn’t yours to make.”

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 dignify 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?”