of the last of the elite, Gothic-style hotels built in Hollywood during the twenties, he knew she’d get a kick out of staying there. For a long time she had been wanting to depart from the military articles she still wrote upon occasion, even though she was a full-time mother, to do in-depth research on some magnificent landmarks from a bygone era.
“Well, we’re going to mix business with pleasure,” he told her. When he saw the crestfallen look on her face, he quickly added, “More pleasure and less business.”
“Let me guess,” she said impishly, turning and leaning fully against him, her arms around his waist. “Camp Reed, the major Marine Corps base in Southern California, is only a stone’s throw from here—about twenty miles or so. And you’re probably going to nose around over there, right? Talk to the general at the base because you’ve had some of his Marine Recon detachments or individual marines assigned to Perseus black ops missions?”
“Yep.” Morgan breathed in, inhaling the lilac fragrance of her hair. “I have two appointments before we party in the New Year. First I’m going to see General Jeb Wilson on January first.”
“He’s the commanding officer of Camp Reed?”
“Yeah. More a courtesy call than anything, darling. To thank him for all his help, loaning his people out to us over the past year.”
“And you’re not going to be cooking up new missions with him?” Laura raised one eyebrow. She knew Morgan didn’t waste time; he made the most of every trip he went on. And Lord knew, he was constantly flying here and there on the Perseus jet—checking on his mercenaries who, around the world, were involved in life-and-death missions, helping others.
Shaking his head, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Nope, for once we’ll just have a drink over at the O Club—officer’s club—and remember old times. I’ll wish him a belated Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.”
“Okay,” she murmured petulantly, pouting provocatively as she moved her hips suggestively against him. “I know there’s a New Year’s party at the hotel tonight and I don’t want to go to it alone.” She saw his eyes narrow, and slowly smiled. “In the meantime I guess I’ll keep myself busy by talking to the manager of this lovely old hotel, snooping around and taking photos. Maybe I can start building a research file on it. I’ve already got a major magazine that wants my article. Or maybe I’ll just relax a bit. Take a hot bath…”
“Hmm, you make it tough to think about leaving,” Morgan said.
Her mouth drew into a knowing smile. “I sure hope so, Morgan Trayhern. Because after having fifty houseguests milling around during our Five Days of Christmas extravaganza, I think we deserve some quality downtime together. Don’t you?”
Sliding his fingers through her mussed gold hair, he murmured, “Absolutely…” Laura made it tough for him to think when she started that sweet, loving assault upon him. She knew what took his mind off business—her. The years of marriage hadn’t lessened his love or need of her, it had only increased his desire.
“Good, we’ll be partying tonight and will ring in the New Year together. You mentioned you had two appointments. What else are you planning while we’re out here for the next five days?”
Having the good grace to blush, Morgan felt the heat creep into his cheeks as his wife gave him that knowing look. “I can’t keep anything from you at all, can I? I have a very brief meeting to attend here at the hotel, after I get back from Camp Reed.”
Chuckling, Laura eased out of his arms. She knew that Morgan had other demands and duties. She wouldn’t cause him to be late for his appointments, but she did want to know his plans. “No, darling, you can’t. So—” she stood by the window, stroking the thick burgundy drape hanging there “—what else do you have to do?”
Rubbing his jaw, Morgan said, “I see Jeb on New Year’s Day at 1300. He’s sending a Huey helicopter over to the landing pad in back of the hotel to pick me up. We’re planning on spending about an hour together, and then they’ll drop me back here.”
“VIP, red-carpet service,” Laura murmured, impressed. Of course, Morgan had complete access to all military branches, as well as to the highest office in the land, the presidency, if he needed it in order to pull off a mission. Because of Perseus’s success in solving problems globally where governments had failed, Morgan was a military heavyweight in a world that usually closed its doors to civilian outsiders. He was a megastar in some of the most powerful political circles, like a Hollywood actor on the A list. Still, Morgan never threw his weight around, and had always been humble about the power he wielded. Laura loved him for that. He ran Perseus to help people in need around the world, when authorities in those countries were unable to. And many times, the federal government used Perseus as a covert branch of the CIA. Consequently, Morgan was known by presidents and heads of states around the world, but not by the general public or media. Few people knew Perseus existed, which was fine with her.
“Well,” Morgan said, “I managed to get hold of one of my old friends from Vietnam days—Darrel Cummings, a fellow officer I’d gone through school with. He’s the head of a Silicon Valley computer company now, doing software work for the Pentagon and the army. I called him before we left, and I’m going to have a quick drink with him down in the bar about 2100 tonight. After I take my beautiful wife to the Jungle Room of this hotel for a very intimate and expensive dinner. Once I meet with Darrel, I’ll come up here, get you, and we’ll go find that party, which starts at around 2200. Does that meet with your approval?”
Laughing softly, Laura nodded. “Perfectly.” She returned Morgan’s dark, intimate look before he clasped her arm and walked into the main room with her. On the table was a massive bouquet of Hawaiian flowers freshly flown in from the islands. There were red and pink ginger, wild-looking purple-and-orange bird-of-paradise, white blossoms of plumaria, whose fragrance drifted through the suite, and red lobster-claw heliconia at the top. It was a rainbow feast of color for the eyes, Laura decided, as she watched Morgan move to the solid silver champagne bucket and pull a dark-green bottle from the ice.
There were two crystal champagne flutes on the table, and she stepped closer as he uncorked the bottle and slowly poured golden bubbly into each glass. La-lique crystal, she noted, admiring how the base of each glass was shaped like the rounded petals of a flower.
“Here, to celebrate your Hoyt adventure and our New Year together,” Morgan murmured, as he put the champagne bottle back into the ice bucket. Picking up both glasses, he handed one to Laura. “Let’s drink to your great writing project here. I’m sure when the manager lets you into the archives in the basement, you’ll dig up dirt on every Hollywood star that ever came here.” He chuckled and lifted his glass. Clinking it gently against hers, he saw Laura smile wickedly.
“Now, darling, I don’t ‘dig dirt’ on anyone. I’m just interested in some of the wonderful old myths and legends that have drifted out of this hotel. I want to see if they’re really true or not.” She lifted her glass and sipped the champagne. It tasted more like a bubbly fruit juice than wine, and was sweet and delicious as she rolled it around on her tongue.
Morgan had gotten her favorite champagne—from a very small vineyard, Echo Canyon, in Page Springs, Arizona. They knew the owner, John Logan, an attorney who had worked for the federal government at one time. Morgan had brought home some of his wine over a year ago, and Laura had gone bonkers over it. She’d never before tasted such a wonderful Syrah burgundy, or the sparking champagne he’d hand-grown on sixteen acres out in the high desert, near Sedona. Morgan had made sure he had a crate of John’s best flown in for their Five Days of Christmas celebration this year. Laura’s favorite, however, was this incredible-tasting
