farther into the hallway, as much to clear his senses of her provocative scent as to prompt her to action. Right now, he needed two hundred reception guests to remind him he should be working. He made a mental note to avoid being alone with this woman again.
“What’s on the agenda this afternoon?” He steered the conversation where it belonged. “And more importantly, how can I facilitate your work?”
“Helping me dress was a big help.”
She issued that with such a straight face he felt the urge to smile. Pulling the suite door closed, Tori sidled close and slipped her arm through his.
“We’re going to have fun today, Adam. You have heard that word before, haven’t you?”
She gazed up into his face with those big blue eyes but never gave him a chance to reply. “We’re going to drink champagne and dance and watch other people drink champagne and dance. We’re going to toast your honorary couple, and, with any luck, I’ll catch the bouquet and you’ll catch the garter. Will you slide it up my leg with your teeth, if you do?”
“Work fits in where exactly? I was under the impression you had a scoop to find and daily deadlines to keep.”
“I do, but my job is to report on your grand opening functions. To do that, I have to interact with your guests. Didn’t you read my article in this morning’s paper?”
“I did. You reported on last night’s rehearsal dinner. You played up the excitement of the event and the romance of how our featured bridal couple became engaged while they built the Wedding Wing.” Directing her toward the elevator, he disentangled his arm to press the button, then clasped his hands behind his back to wait.
Tori frowned, assuring him that she hadn’t missed his getaway. “I also explained that today’s wedding would conclude the first week of your grand opening and officially start the second. Since I’ll have the feature in tomorrow’s paper, I left my readership hanging to find out what happens.”
“Is that why you mentioned our unexpected guests?” he asked, referring to her parents’ last-minute addition to the rehearsal dinner guest list.
“My parents weren’t the only gate-crashers. Your bedding consultant’s parents showed up, too, which meant I had area news of interest to report.” She must have seen something in his expression because she asked, “You don’t agree?”
“No, I don’t.”
She gave a slight shrug that made those red waves shimmer in the overhead light. “That might explain why you’re a hotel manager and not a reporter.”
He didn’t get a chance to respond before the elevator beeped and the door slid open. They entered beside another couple Adam recognized as wedding guests.
“Heading back to the wedding?” he asked.
The man nodded, and Adam inquired about their accommodations, dissuading Tori from continuing their discussion until they were alone again.
When the doors opened, the Wedding Wing lobby appeared before them. He held the door while the guests exited before joining Tori, who picked up right where they’d left off.
“You’re not from Niagara Falls. Trust me when I say your unexpected guests last night are news around here. People gobble up any mention of my family. Take a look at our society page someday. Every other paragraph has the name Prescott in it. It’s a side effect of being related to politicians. When my family and your bedding consultant’s family are together in the same room, it’s news. I was simply writing to my audience.”
She motioned to the life-size painting showcased in the lobby. “Your bedding consultant knows how to use the press to her advantage, too. That’s why she arranged the loan of the Falling Woman from Westfalls. To create spin. She told me so herself.”
Adam followed her gaze, unable to argue the point because his co-worker Laura Granger—the inn’s bedding consultant and the woman who’d conceptualized the Wedding Wing—had acquired the painting to stir up interest in the Naughty Nuptials.
This had been a noteworthy acquisition because the artist, a French woman named Mireille Marceaux, was apparently a local mystery. Adam glanced at the painting, a woman surrounded by a summer-green forest and mist from the falls.
“I still can’t believe she managed to get this painting on loan. Talk about using personal connections,” Tori said, referring to Laura’s status as friend to the headmistress of the exclusive preparatory school that owned the painting.
Adam nodded, but as he gazed at the painting he noticed something he hadn’t before. The redheaded semi-nude reminded him of the brash young reporter standing by his side. Something about the way the red hair, refined facial features and delicate curves came together struck him as similar.
Of course, this shouldn’t come as a surprise. The sight of Tori Ford in that skimpy robe still burned in his brain. Like the Falling Woman, she was the stuff fantasies were made of and he wasn’t likely to forget the sight any time soon.
“Laura’s acquisition of this painting was a promotional stunt, but I don’t believe it falls under the same heading as gossiping about our guests in print.”
“Gossiping? Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?”
He shook his head. “You’re capitalizing on a decades-old feud between your family and Laura’s, as well as your connection to the senator. That strikes me as sensationalism.”
“It’s Laura’s job to create public interest in her Wedding Wing. It’s my job to create public interest so my readers buy newspapers. People around here enjoy reading about our families, so where’s the difference?”
If Tori didn’t understand, Adam wasn’t about to debate the point. He would have thought Senator Prescott’s youngest granddaughter would have been more concerned about where she directed her media attention. Apparently not.
But while he was entitled to his opinion, Adam wouldn’t purposely antagonize the woman responsible for the reviews on the Naughty Nuptials. Upon learning the Niagara Falls Journal would be sending her estranged cousin to cover the events, Laura, his normally professional, if somewhat quirky co-worker, had told management about her troubled history with the senator’s family. These families were so estranged, in fact, that Laura had feared coverage would be biased as a result.
Falling Inn Bed, and Breakfast needed rave reviews, so Adam was doing his best to earn them. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been assigned to this job because he was the best fit, but because he was the only male on the executive management staff who could escort Tori Ford to couple events.
He intended to enforce what damage control he could and, at the very least, not make matters worse. But he hadn’t counted on Tori turning him into her pet project, either.
“We’d prefer the inn to attract interest on its own merit,” he said to segue through the stiff moment. “Surely you can understand that.”
While Tori might have understood, he could tell by the way she notched her chin that she didn’t agree. And he didn’t give her a chance to embroil him in another debate. Touching her elbow, he guided her toward the grand ballroom, where the Wallace/Marsh reception currently was taking place. She moved along by his side without further comment, and he greeted the ushers posted at the main entrance
