Backfire

“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 (#ulink_e8c38d1f-a9b2-57d7-8c8b-3abb4109654b)

He had to give her 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.”