didn’t have to see where that question came from. “Is that you, Ted?”
Everyone busted up. Ted Staple was from The Daily News. The man never passed an open bar he didn’t love.
“You got it, gorgeous.”
“We’re all going to the bar as soon as the tour is done.”
“Well, then let’s get the damn show on the road,” Ted said, and that was it for another few minutes. She could just stand here, smile for the cameras, revel in her joy.
It actually took about fifteen minutes to get everyone down to the nineteenth floor. She had prepared one of the largest penthouse suites for tonight’s show. The Haiku Suite, designed by Zang Toi, was Asian luxury to die for.
Once everyone was in position, she started at the floor-to-ceiling windows and went from there. “In addition to the home theater experience with digitally delivered high-definition video on a flat panel LCD TV, including surround sound, we have one hundred television channels and ten high-definition channels that are private to the hotel.”
“What do you show on those, Piper?”
She gave them her seductive smile. “The best erotica. Something for every taste. And if that’s not enough…” She pointed to a black lacquer bookcase. “There’s a personalized video selection prepared for every guest.”
“How do you know what they’ll want?”
“Questionnaires. Very specific questionnaires.”
“Can we have some samples?”
“Of the videos? No. Of the questionnaires? Sure. The moment you book your reservation.”
She moved to the bedroom. “These are handcrafted oriental rugs, and every piece of art in here is a museum-quality antique. So don’t bump into anything, Ted.”
She waited for the laughter. When the room was quiet again, she continued, “The walls are upholstered with silk, and the walk-in closet is paneled in sycamore.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get back to the sex.”
“All right, all right. Jeez.” She went over to the low bedside table and opened the drawer. “Instead of the traditional reading material found in hotel drawers, we have thoughtfully provided a beautifully illustrated copy of the Kama Sutra and a selection of self-heating lubricating oils.”
She walked over to the antique armoire, which she opened with a flourish. She could have heard a pin drop in the room. It was just as she’d predicted. When it comes to sex, no one’s immune.
“This is the toy chest. Again, with something for everyone.” She pulled out a long, intricately braided leather whip. “And if any one of you think you’re going to print something trashing my hotel…” She flicked the whip against her leg, the crack loud despite the crowd, and tried not to wince. She’d had no idea it could hurt so much.
But she’d gotten her point across. It took a good half hour to go through the rest of the suite. The toys, the huge Jacuzzi tub, the erotic books, the selection of vibrators and costumes. But finally, it was time to go down to the bar.
Again, she and Janice waited for the last elevator. Unfortunately, they weren’t alone, so she couldn’t grill Janice for her critique. It would have to come later, but in her heart, Piper knew the preview had gone exceptionally well.
She let everyone get out in front of her, and saw the press had found the bar. So she lagged just a bit behind, giving herself a breather. There wouldn’t be a chance for another one until the wee hours.
Just as her Manolo Blahnik strappy sandal hit the lobby carpet, she saw him.
Her heart kicked into fourth gear and her smile faltered. But just for a second. She should have known he’d show up. After all, he worked for her father, and who else would Nicholas Devon send to do his dirty work but Trace Winslow.
Dammit, why did just the sight of him make her tremble? She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a civil conversation. He couldn’t hide his disdain, and she couldn’t help but bait the prudish bastard. He just made it so easy. He’d never seen her for who she really was. And he never would.
“Hello, Piper.”
She gave him her most dazzling grin. “Hey, Trace.” She walked toward him, glad she’d worn this sexy little pink Versace number that made her boobs look huge. “I hope you’re staying for a while. I’d like to give you the personal tour.”
He looked her over, his gaze stalling at her chest on the way down and even longer on the way back up. “Actually, I am.”
Her breath caught. “Excuse me?”
“I am staying. For the rest of the week. My luggage will be right in.” He looked around the lobby as if he hadn’t just hurled a huge land mine. “What, no bellmen?”
“The hotel isn’t open yet.”
He nodded. “No problem. I’ll just leave my bags behind the desk until the tour is over. You do have room for one more, don’t you?”
“Wait just a minute there, buddy. What do you mean you’re staying here?”
“Just what I said.”
“I don’t remember inviting you.”
“And yet, I knew in my heart you’d welcome me with open arms.”
“Oh, please. With an open switchblade, maybe.”
He came closer, all six foot two of polished grace, looking so smug she wanted to smack him. Of course, he pushed himself into her personal space. Near enough for her to smell the hint of his Platinum Egoiste cologne, feel the simmering contempt that was as ever present as his perfect haircuts. “I’m here to help you, Piper.”
“Help me? Don’t be absurd.”
“It’s true. I’m going to stay for the entire week, get to know the hotel, try to talk a little sense into you.”
“As if anything you’d have to say would be in my best interest.”
“You’d better believe it.”
“And what? If you don’t like what you see, you’re going to tell on me? Cry to Daddy that I’m not being a good little Devon?”
“That’s right.”
“If I cared, I wouldn’t have built the hotel.”
He shrugged. “Have it your way. But I suggest you think this through.”
She took a deep breath. It was important not to yell. Not to lose her cool. The press was here in droves, and she didn’t want anything to deflect from the buzz she was working so hard to build for her hotel. “And why should I do that?”
“Because, my little spoiled heiress, if you don’t, you’re going to be cut off. Completely. From all those millions of Devon dollars.”
2
