the hundredth time she picked up the phone to call Logan Ford and tell him that she couldn’t accept his offer than found herself putting it down again without making the call. The whole idea was crazy, totally unacceptable, so why did she find it so difficult to tell him that?
She got up and walked over to the window, watching the other guests splashing in the pool, hearing the faint sounds of their laughter carrying on the hot afternoon air. They were all enjoying themselves while here she was trying to find a solution to a problem that wouldn’t be solved. She had to find enough money to pay her bill here and buy her ticket back home to England, but how? Apart from Logan there was just no one she could turn to!
The loud knock at the door brought her spinning round and she hurried across the room, half expecting to find the tall red-haired man outside the door, but it wasn’t him.
‘Miss Jacobs?’ At her nod of agreement the man continued, a trace of discomfort on his face as he held an envelope out to her. ‘The manager has asked me to give you this, ma’am.’
‘What is it?’ She took it from him, studying the unmarked white envelope in confusion.
‘Your bill. It’s made up until today and we shall be grateful if you could arrange to pay it as soon as possible.’
‘My bill? But I’m not due to leave until the day after tomorrow. What is this all about?’
The man ran a finger round the collar of his spotless white shirt, his discomfort even more in evidence now. ‘I’m afraid there seems to have been a mix-up in the bookings. We shall have to ask you to vacate this room tomorrow by ten a.m. at the latest. I’m very sorry.’
‘So am I!’ She glared at the man, but he had already turned to hurry along the corridor. Stephanie closed the door then ripped the envelope open, staring down at the neatly totalled account with panic in her eyes. Now what was she going to do? She could only speculate on what had happened to alert the hotel management to her possible inability to pay, and in a way she could sympathise with their dilemma, but it didn’t help her situation one little bit! Between now and ten a.m. tomorrow she had to come up with just over two hundred dollars or suffer the consequences!
When the telephone suddenly rang she snatched it up, a trace of panic echoing in her voice. ‘Yes? Hello?’
‘Is there something wrong?’
She recognised the voice immediately, felt the roughness of its deep timbre rolling along every taut nerve. Deliberately she took a long, slow breath, trying to stave off her first impulse to throw herself on his mercy and beg for help—unconditional help, that was. Logan Ford wasn’t the sort of man who would be affected by any pleas for help.
‘You could say that. The manager of the hotel has just presented me with a bill for my stay, and informed me that unfortunately there has been a mix-up and that my room will have to be vacated by ten tomorrow morning.’
‘I see. That could pose rather a problem, couldn’t it? What do you intend to do?’ His voice was completely bland, so why did she have the sudden horrible suspicion that he knew rather more about what had happened than he was admitting to? Anger rose inside her and she pressed the receiver tightly to her ear, wishing that he were in the room so that she could see his face.
‘I don’t suppose you have any idea why they should have become worried that I might not be able to pay?’
‘Should I?’
‘That isn’t an answer! Look, Mr Ford, if you were behind this, then let me tell you that I—’
He cut her off, his voice hard and determined. ‘Let’s not make a song and dance out of this, Miss Jacobs. Does it really matter when they presented you with the bill? The situation would still be the same; you can’t pay it, can you?’
All the fight went out of her as quickly as it had arisen, and she sank down on the edge of the chair. ‘No. You know I can’t.’
‘Then what do you propose to do about it? Have you made your decision about whether you intend to take up my offer?’
‘I ...’ She swallowed hard to ease the knot of tension in her throat, wondering what to say. It seemed like the only way out of this mess, yet something made her hesitate about accepting his proposal. She searched her mind, trying to work out what it was that bothered her most, but could come up with nothing but a vague feeling that she might be courting even worse trouble than what she was already in. Logan Ford was a disturbing man; he disturbed her in ways that she didn’t want to think about. But there again, he’d assured her that it was his daughter she would be dealing with, not him. Was she simply being stupid to refuse this lifeline?
‘Well? I haven’t got all day to waste, Stephanie.’ There was rough impatience in his voice, and she started nervously, snapping back at him. ‘It isn’t that easy! Can’t you understand that?’
‘Frankly, no. I have made you a very generous offer. I can’t see what is so difficult about making up your mind what you intend to do.’
‘Why can’t you just lend me the money? I would pay you back; you have my word on that!’
He laughed softly, a low sound that made a frisson work down her spine, like a finger smoothing her skin. ‘I’m sure you would; however, I’m not in the business of making loans. You know what I’m offering, but if it isn’t acceptable to you then we had better call the whole deal off. Good luck, Stephanie; I think you’re going to need it.’
The line went dead. Stephanie stared at the receiver in shock, then slowly replaced it, gnawing on her lower lip. He hadn’t even given her a chance to explain her concerns! He was so damned ruthless that he couldn’t spare the time to listen. But now what was she going to do?
She sat worrying over it until the pangs of hunger growing in her stomach drove her from her room. She took the lift down and fed two of her precious dollar bills into the machine in the back hallway, grimacing as it disgorged a frosted can of drink and a packaged Danish pastry. It was a meagre meal, but the best she could do. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers’ was an old adage that was being proved very true.
She carried the food out to the terrace that overlooked the pool and sat down at one of the tables, leaning back against the hard metal chair with a weary sigh that echoed into the night. Peeling the wrapper off the pastry, she took a bite then had to force herself to chew the sticky confection. It seemed to lodge itself in her throat, held there by the huge knot of panic and tension. Popping the tab on the can, she took a long swallow of the icy liquid, then set the can down with a clatter. Who was she kidding? She knew exactly what she needed to do to get herself out of this mess, and she was just being stupid by not admitting it. It would probably stick in her throat even more than the pastry, but she was going to have to go to Logan Ford and hope that he would cut her a very large slice of humble pie.
The worse thing was the wretched man would probably enjoy watching her eat it!
The hotel lobby was bustling when she walked through the door. Stephanie waited her turn at the reception desk, then asked the girl behind the counter to ring through to Mr Ford’s room and tell him that she would like to speak to him.
‘I’m afraid that Mr Ford has just left for the evening, ma’am. Would you like to leave a message? I can see that he gets it as soon as he... Wait a minute; isn’t that him over there? He must have come back to get something.’
