the circumstances.
Careful to keep outside the woman’s line of vision, he observed Judge Greene step inside the empty elevator closest to the restaurant. If Marc had been a betting man, he’d wager half his fortune that the woman would soon follow her “friend.”
Swallowing his distaste behind a sneer, Marc found himself torn between tossing the little beauty out of his hotel and waiting to see how long it would take her to make her way to the elevators.
He guessed two minutes. Perhaps three.
She proved him wrong, by lingering in the alcove a good five more minutes than he’d predicted. Marc took the opportunity to study her more closely.
She’d arranged her rich, mahogany hair loosely atop her head, with several strands cascading free at random. The tousled effect was both captivating and enthralling, a sure sign she’d taken great care with her appearance. The gold dress complemented her figure to perfection, its tight-fitting bodice cut just high enough to avoid indecency. But only just.
Marc knew better than to allow such an artful display to send his logic disappearing into another room. If his experience with Pearl LaRue had taught him anything, it was that a man could trust no woman.
This one, no matter how exquisite, was no exception.
She set out, heading straight for the bank of elevators near the restaurant. Exactly as he’d predicted.
Uncommonly disappointed in a woman he’d never met, Marc cut across the lobby in a wide arc, keeping to the left of her so she wouldn’t notice his approach. Two feet away, he reached out and caught her by the arm.
Ignoring her shocked gasp, he spun her around to face him.
For an endless moment his mind emptied of all thought. His heartbeat roared in his ears, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but the stunned woman blinking wide-eyed back at him.
Up close, her refined, delicate beauty took his breath away. In contrast with the bold cut of her dress, everything about her was soft and inviting. Her face, her figure, even her light amber eyes spoke of a kind soul and a generous heart.
Completely unexpected. Enough to render him speechless.
She stared back at him, unmoving, waiting, holding silent, as if trying to gauge his mood before making her move.
Wounded, that was the word that came to mind as he gazed into those exotic, heartbreaking eyes. Vulnerable. Desperate.
All a lie. Her kind always lied.
Marc gave his head a hard shake. “Miss,” he said past the drumming in his ears. “I would like a word with you in private.”
He felt her betraying tremble, an instant before she physically repressed the sensation and then smoothed a look of calm across her face. The alarming speed in which she regained her composure proved Marc’s earlier assessment. Only a woman with something to hide would respond with such calculated control.
“If you would be so kind as to come with me,” he added with an edge of warning in his words, “I’m sure we can avoid an unnecessary scene.”
As if coming out of a daze, she tugged on her arm, hard. “Sir, I suggest you release me before I make a scene.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Marc tightened his hold, not enough to hurt her but enough to make his point.
“Who do you think you are?” An impeccable mix of indignation and shock sounded in her voice.
Oh, she was good. She looked and sounded generally taken aback by his behavior.
But Marc had seen that very same expression on another woman’s face. The reminder was enough to harden his heart.
“My name is Marc Dupree,” he said with hard-won authority. “The owner of this hotel.”
“Well, then, Mr. Dupree.” She swept a lock of hair behind her ear with a trembling finger, the only sign of her agitation. One he would have missed had he not been watching her so closely. “I must compliment you on your fine establishment.”
She punctuated her words with a brilliant smile. The same one she’d given Joshua Greene earlier.
Marc had seen enough. He motioned to his security man, Hank, watching from across the room.
Well-versed in the need for propriety, the big man sauntered over in a casual manner.
“Hank, please escort Miss—” Marc leveled a look on the woman. “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure of learning your name.”
A sound of despair slipped from her lips as she fixed her eyes on the rotating doors at the other end of the lobby.
“Now, now, that wouldn’t be wise, Miss...”
She snapped her gaze back to his. “Oh, honestly, this is absurd.” Indignation masked any signs of her earlier anxiety. “My name is Laney. Laney O’Connor.”
“I trust that’s your real name.”
“Of course it’s my real name. Why would you ask such a question?”
Marc lifted a single eyebrow. “I find women like you often use a variety of names.”
“Women like me?” She frowned, as if trying to discern the meaning of his words. The moment understanding dawned, her eyes widened. “Oh...oh.” She yanked once again on her arm. “You insult me.”
He almost believed he’d offended her. Almost.
“Hank, please escort Miss O’Connor to my office.” Marc lowered his lips to her ear. “This will go much easier for you if you cooperate without a fight.”
“I...I don’t understand. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
They both knew that was a lie.
“Then you won’t mind if I take a look inside your satchel.” Giving her no opportunity to respond, he let go of her arm and commandeered the tiny bag dangling from her wrist.
Shock and fury flared in her eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Ensuring that nothing unsavory occurs in my hotel.”
Gaze locked on the tiny satchel, she lunged for him.
Marc shifted to his left.
She went stumbling past. One step, two, by the third she caught her balance and swung back around to face him. “Mr. Dupree, please. You...you’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Panic sounded in every word.
Marc remained unmoved. How many times had Pearl given that very same appeal, with that precise look of distress in her eyes?
“A mistake?” He shook his head. “Not likely.”
“Please,” she whispered, her shoulders slumping forward. “You have to believe me when I say
