Flirting with Felicity (10 page)

It wasn’t working. Her heart rate sped up as his gaze
caressed her face, her throat, then lower still. She could feel her nipples
harden and the center of her womanhood tingle with an urgency she’d never
experienced before.

“Felicity,” Mary Beth said from behind her, placing a hand on
her shoulder and giving her a push forward. “Put the man out of his misery, and
allow yourself some fun for a change.”

The words were enough to break whatever enchantment Blake had
cast over her since entering the room. Felicity lifted her chin. She could
resist him. She was capable of anything she set her mind to.

Grasping the thought, Felicity proceeded with the lesson, and
succeeded in her task simply by not looking at Blake. She looked anywhere but
at him. When the cooking was complete and the food plated, she escorted her
students to the dining room, so they could enjoy their meal together.

Before she could circulate among her students, Blake stopped
her with a hand on her arm. “Interesting use of your time and the hotel’s
resources.”

“My time is mine.” She drew a tight breath. Her gaze slid to
his. Her nerves stretched in telltale anticipation—anticipation that would
never be fulfilled. “And, come to think of it, the hotel is mine, too.
Everything but the pancetta was donated.”

He arched a brow. “I meant no offense. I happen to think the
program is a brilliant idea. Yours?”

She nodded, relieved they wouldn’t battle over her use of
hotel resources. She firmed her lips.
Her
hotel
resources.

“You’re an intriguing woman, Felicity Wright,” he said in a
low voice. “Far more intriguing than I gave you credit for.”

Her heart accelerated at the soft touch of his hand on her
arm. She swallowed. “Thank you, I think.”

He must have known the effect he was having on her, because
he slid his fingers along her sleeve to her shoulder until they came to settle
at the base of her neck. He moved his fingers leisurely back and forth. “What
else do you have planned for me today?”

Despite the thick fabric of her chef’s coat, her skin warmed
at his touch, and her blood ran faster in her veins. “We’ll start with a tour
of the hotel, then I want to introduce you to our housekeeping department,
service staff, and our security team. When we’re finished there, you’ll shadow
me while I prepare for the dinner rush. After that, we’ll relax with cocktails
for two in the rooftop garden.”

He offered her a mischievous smile. “I’m all yours.”

She felt more than heard his words, as if they were a caress
stroking down her body, warming her from the inside out. She knew he was
waiting for her to reply, no doubt with something equally as playful and sexy.
But she couldn’t find the words. She could barely find her brain, let alone
assemble sufficient wit to compose a sentence, especially not with his woodsy
scent invading her senses, and certainly not when he was touching her.

Felicity forced herself to straighten, to step away from his
touch. With an effort, she drew a deep breath, regaining some semblance of
mental and physical distance. “Let’s start right now with the tour of the
hotel.” She walked away from Blake, heading toward Mary Beth. With her previous
experience, the young woman often helped her finish up the class when
Felicity’s other restaurant duties took her away. “Can you take over?”

Mary Beth’s eyes twinkled as her gaze shifted between Blake
and Felicity. She took in Felicity’s heightened color and smiled. “Of course.”

Felicity turned to face Blake.

His blue eyes held hers. A moment passed, then he held out
his hand. “Shall we?” His voice had lowered, his tone provocative, challenging,
demanding.

She took his hand, felt a sizzle along her nerves. “It’s time
for that tour.”

He smiled intently. “I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go.”

And Felicity knew she’d unwittingly accepted more than just
his hand. The sensation of his hand in hers sent a jolt of electricity through
her. She swallowed hard as she guided him out of the kitchen and down the long
hallway into the lobby.

He arched a brow at her, as though he, too, felt the soft
searing in his blood, but he remained silent.

She should be thinking about the hotel, about her employees,
about anything other than the man at her side. A glance sideways at his lean,
perfect body tempted her in a way she’d never been tempted before. Not that
she’d had much time in her life to be tempted. She’d spent most of her teens
and early twenties working as many jobs as she could, saving for the procedure
her father had had this morning. Maybe that’s why Blake’s appeal was so strong
now.

They spent the next hour with Edward’s wife, Marie, who paraded
them through the various rooms on each floor. She proudly touted the skills of
her staff as she introduced each maid to Blake.

They spent another two hours with the service staff overseen
by Edward, watching the bellhops and porters, concierge and reception staff
engage with the guests, providing a level of service that most hotels didn’t
even strive for these days.

And while most of the time was spent in conversation with
staff or patrons, Blake never lost an opportunity to stand close and brush his
fingers across her arms, her back, or along the curve of her hip. The air
between them all but crackled as they made their way through the hotel.

That afternoon, a couple was using the rooftop garden as the
site of their wedding ceremony. She and Blake stood in the back, observing,
while the couple exchanged their vows. Felicity hoped Blake could see through
her efforts today that the Bancroft was so much more than just a place to sleep
or eat. It played an important role in the community as an employer, a safe
place for residents, a job training and education center, a place where shared
lives began.

After the wedding concluded, she took Blake back down to the
lobby and asked the question burning through her thoughts. “Have I convinced
you of anything yet?”

“You’ve convinced me that you work very hard and that your
employees are extremely loyal to you, even though you just took over the hotel.”

Raising a hand, she brushed back a flyaway strand of hair
from her temple and noted his eyes followed her hand. “They know me from the
restaurant. I’m a familiar face.”

“Unlike me.”

Once again they were close, and once again that excruciating
awareness arced between them. “Yes,” she said. “You’re an unknown, and they’re
wary of how you’ll change their lives.”

He reached up and gently touched the back of one finger to
her cheek. “Change is inevitable.”

“Most people don’t like change. It scares them.”

He held her gaze. “Are you scared, Felicity?”

“Of you? Yes. No . . . I don’t know anymore,” she said in a
rush.

His eyes flared and a look of satisfaction crept across his
features.

She stepped back, away from his touch. “There is something
more I want you to see—a part of history that is preserved right here at the
Bancroft. Come with me,” she said, taking his hand.

She led him through the bar area and toward the back stairs
that were almost forgotten and rarely used. Four steps down, she released his
hand so she could unlatch the door. When the door opened, the scent of stagnant
air greeted them. Felicity moved down the darkened stairway, reaching for the
old-fashioned light switch at the bottom of the stairs on the left side of the
wall. A sizzle of sound preceded the soft flood of yellow-gold light that
followed.

“What is this place?” Blake asked beside her. “I’ve been in this
hotel many times as a child, and I never knew this place existed.”

“It’s the old wine cellar. Probably not somewhere your
parents thought to take you,” she said, stepping into the room. “This cellar
was built for the original hotel back in the early 1900s.” Edward had helped
her track it down. She stepped aside and allowed Blake to enter the room.

With interest, his gaze traveled across the arched red brick
that made up the ceiling before dropping to the flagstone floor and the piles
of wooden crates stuffed into every corner. “That’s an odd way to store wine,”
he commented with a frown.

“It’s not wine. Go ahead, take a look,” Felicity encouraged.
He took several steps away from her and bent to inspect one of the wooden
crates. Felicity watched in the filtered light as he lifted up a flat wooden
shoe with a jute strap, a parasol, and a china doll.

He twisted toward her. “These are someone’s possessions.”

Felicity nodded. “They belong to the Japanese families who
lived in the Bancroft. Following the attacks on Pearl Harbor, when all
residents of Japanese descent were forced to leave their homes, businesses, and
communities and enter internment camps for incarceration, they left everything
they had behind. These crates contain their belongings as well as the memory of
their hopes and dreams.”

He set the china doll back on the top of the crate where he’d
retrieved it. “These things belong in a museum.”

Felicity shook her head. “They belong to the two families who
lived here during that time. I researched the guest register from that time
period and found two family names: Fujimoto and Nishimura. It would be
wonderful to find their descendants and return their possessions. But in the
meantime, their history is preserved right here, undisturbed.”

Unfurling himself, he stood and came toward her, taking her
hands in his. “You have a soft heart, don’t you?”

“I—” She startled at the feel of his hands. They closed
around hers as though he truly cared and wanted to offer her his support. She
couldn’t remember the last time someone touched her that way. She’d been the
strong one in her shrunken family, for others at the hotel, for the community
for so long, that she’d all but forgotten what it was like to take comfort from
someone else. There was really no need for him to hold her hands. That he did
scorched her all the way to her caged heart.

“I understand your need to preserve their memory, and your
need to preserve the history of the Bancroft Hotel. I really do . . .”

She swallowed, then stiffened. She could hear the “but”
coming. She pulled her hands from his. Was she foolish to think she could
influence him by revealing the suffering of others? “Why can’t you make an
example of green living out of one of your other hotels?”

“The Bancroft is the first hotel my family purchased. It’s
the flagship hotel. The one we need to make an example for the rest of the
chain.”

Irritated, she met his gaze. “Why not use the second hotel
your family purchased? The Bayside Hotel in San Francisco is very similar to
the Bancroft. Besides, you actually own that one.”

Instead of the anger she expected at her statement, his
features lightened. “You’ve been doing research on me and my family?”

Dear
God
, the man was handsome when he wasn’t trying to manipulate
her. “I’ll do anything I have to do to keep this hotel.”

“Anything?”

She frowned. “Don’t push me, Blake. I’m quite serious. This
hotel and the people who work here mean everything in the world to me. I
promise you, if pushed, I’ll go to great lengths, even if that includes
enduring personal hardship, to keep the Bancroft and her employees safe.”

He locked gazes with her. “It might come to that,” he said,
his tone no longer amused.

She stared at him, trying to get a reading on his mood and
feelings, but the man was a brick wall. “I’m ready.” She turned her back to him
and moved back up the stairs. “In the meanwhile, you are still obligated to
spend the rest of the day with me. Prepare yourself for a long afternoon and
evening in the kitchen. It’s time to prep for lunch, then dinner.”

Felicity looked about the dining room of the Dolce Vita
as her employees gathered with her at the big table in the back. She smiled, feeling
at peace despite the fact Blake was seated next to her. His arm brushed against
hers as he reached for his water glass. Once again awareness arced and all but
crackled between them.

Mary Beth sat on Felicity’s left and leaned toward her,
keeping her voice low. “How did the morning with Blake go?” She put a hand out
for the large serving platter of gnocchi from Michael as the staff enjoyed
their evening meal before they opened for the dinner crowd.

“I feel like I’m losing this battle before it’s even started,”
Felicity said quietly, looking around the table at all those who made up her
eclectic family.

Mary Beth passed the plate to Felicity. “Did you hear from
the Seattle Historic Preservation Program?”

Felicity served herself, then, avoiding Blake’s gaze, passed
the plate to him. Their fingers touched and her pulse quickened despite her
attempt to keep her response under control. “Nothing yet.”

Mary Beth frowned. “Then what’s wrong, because something is?”

A knot centered in Felicity’s stomach as she slid her gaze to
the man on the other side of her. He talked with Maria, one of the younger
waitresses who sat across from him. The pretty girl smiled, her face animated
as she hung on Blake’s every word. “Am I wasting my time trying to convince him
of anything? While I drag him around the hotel and introduce him to the staff,
a part of me feels like he’s just going through the motions, waiting for an
opportunity to show me how little I know about hotel management. It’s
frustrating.”

“I’m sure it is.” Mary Beth smiled. “You’re new to all this.
But you’re a quick learner.”

Felicity frowned. “What are you smiling about? This isn’t
funny.”

“You could always seduce the hotel out from under him.”

“Are you forgetting I already own the hotel?”

“Maybe he just needs encouragement to back off.”

“Or he’s stalling while he goes behind my back and prepares a
whopping lawsuit.”

Mary Beth’s smile faded. “Can I give you some advice?”

Felicity nodded.

“Sometimes you have to trust people to do the right thing, or
you can make yourself miserable while you look for demons that aren’t there.”

The words were like tiny nicks from a razor blade, and she
flinched at each one. “We’ve both had enough demons in our lives.”

Felicity turned in Blake’s direction once more. This would be
so much easier, if he were the monster she wanted him to be, but he wasn’t. “All
right. I’ve tried worrying. Maybe it’s time to try a little trust.”

Neither of them said anything more. There was nothing else to
do but to accept Mary Beth’s practical advice and see where it led.

At the thought, Felicity focused her attention on her sous-chef,
who stood to explain the specials for the evening, while the others continued
to dish up their plates. She found comfort in the routine. The staff would each
take a turn describing the newest dishes, until everyone, from the dishwashers
to the headwaiter, could explain each and every new wine and food item.

“Our antipasto specialty tonight is
fiori di zucchini
or fried zucchini flowers. The sweet, subtle taste pairs nicely with a glass of
Prosecco,” Hans explained, gesturing with his hands in his usual flamboyant
style.

All through the meal, Felicity was conscious of Blake at her
side. After she’d shown him the wine cellar, there’d been a subtle change in
his behavior toward her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what the change
was, but something was different. There was still the sexual awareness between
them, but something else as well.

Acceptance? Contentment? Need? Could she label the golden
warmth that flowed through her when he was near? Was it wise to allow herself
to feel that way? She frowned at the reality of her situation. Wisdom wasn’t
her top consideration every time a look, a touch, or a smile turned her from a
rational human being into a mass of quivering need.

She should be furious with herself for letting him have this
effect on her, and yet, if she were honest with herself, she was enjoying
letting her guard down, just a little. Indulging herself couldn’t hurt as long
as she didn’t act upon her feelings.

“What are y’all doing?” a feminine voice asked from behind
Felicity. There was a beat of silence before the speaker’s identity registered
in Felicity’s mind. She turned to look behind her at the same moment as Blake.

Destiny Carrow offered one of her
chocolate-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth smiles. Sweet and bitter at the same time.
“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Felicity noticed Blake’s eyes flare with interest as he took
in Destiny’s formfitting black dress, black tights, and black boots. Only a
silver chain about her neck and her bright red hair gave the woman any color.
But color never seemed to be an issue with Destiny. Her words, both spoken and
written, seemed to draw people to her.

Felicity shifted in her chair, stood, and faced her onetime
friend. She tried to pull up the advice Vern had given her when Destiny’s
scathing review had hit a few days before he died. He’d told her not to let
Destiny inside her head. Doing that was more difficult than she’d imagined it
would be, especially when Destiny’s gaze drifted to Blake and her interest
flared. “This is a private event, Destiny. Didn’t you read the sign?” Felicity
asked, her tone sharper than she’d intended.

Edward stood. A frown marred his usually cheerful face. “I’ll
see her out.”

“Are you mad at me, Felicity?” The pleasure on Destiny’s face
slowly faded. “You took my review of your restaurant wrong, didn’t you?” she
asked in a low voice. “It was meant as encouragement.”

Felicity struggled to form a calm reply. She would not reduce
herself to Destiny’s level. Even so, Felicity pinned her former friend with an
angry gaze. “You have a right to your opinion. I’m glad my patrons feel
otherwise.”

Destiny frowned. “If the review didn’t hurt your business at
all, then what are you so upset about?”

“Why are you here?” Felicity asked, not wanting to continue
the current line of their conversation.

Destiny pursed her lips and her eyes feasted openly on Blake.
“I heard a rumor that I wanted to check out. Something about a handsome
stranger coming to the Bancroft Hotel.”

Felicity held her breath as she, too, looked at the man
beside her. A faint stubble covered his angular jaw, and even though he had
ditched his expensive suit for the chef’s coat she’d given him to use while
they’d been in the kitchen, the garment did nothing to hide his muscular chest.
He was disarmingly seductive. So much so that it made her mouth dry and her
palms damp just to look at him. “We have visitors to the Bancroft all the time.
It is a hotel, you know.”

“Ah, but this visitor is different.” Destiny tapped a
well-manicured finger on her lips in a theatrical way. “The rumor on the
streets is that Blake Bancroft is in town, and that he wants something that was
given to you.” A cold, hard edge crept into her voice.

The soft sound of voices interrupted Felicity’s thoughts as
her employees broke the silence that had descended over the room. “You know
about the restaurant?” she asked, surprised that word had leaked outside the
hotel so quickly and directly to Destiny’s ears.

“And the hotel.” Destiny’s eyes sought Felicity’s, daring her
to deny the rumor.

“It’s true, but none of that concerns you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. The public has a right to know
about what’s happening at the Bancroft, especially with a nasty family fight
brewing.”

Felicity ignored the barb. “You’re a food critic. Why would
you want to do a story on what’s between Blake and me?” Felicity asked with a
frown.

Destiny’s dark eyes sparkled. “I’m a reporter who works as a
food critic. This story is going to launch my career as a serious journalist.”

Blake stood and handed Destiny his card. “If you want
information about the hotel, Bancroft Industries’ public relations team would
be happy to talk to you.”

Destiny took his card and slipped it into her purse. “A quote
from you would make the story that much stronger.”

That’s all she needed, for Blake to have the press on his
side of this issue. Felicity tamped down her anger. Giving vent to her emotions
would only make things worse. “Please leave, Destiny. The restaurant isn’t open
to the public yet. If you want to investigate, you’ll have to do it during our
hours of operation.”

Destiny smiled, then turned to Blake. “Want to go find
somewhere we can talk? You look like you could use a drink.” She raised a brow,
waiting for a response.

Felicity tried not to react, pasting a bland expression on
her face. Inside, she was reeling.

“This isn’t the time or place for an interview. As I said,
you are welcome to talk to my PR team.”

Destiny removed a pen from her purse. She reached for Blake’s
hand, turned it palm up, then wrote her number on his skin. “I’d rather hear
from you,” she said with a sly smile. “Call me.”

“That’s it,” Edward erupted. “If you won’t leave on your own,
I’ll escort you out.” He stepped between Felicity and Destiny, towering over
the petite redhead.

Destiny took two steps back, but her chin came up and her
eyes narrowed. “This isn’t over, Felicity,” she said as she turned and walked
out of the dining area. Edward followed. Felicity supposed it was to make
certain the food critic left the hotel.

At Destiny’s exit, the weight of disappointment settled in
Felicity’s stomach, and she found it hard to breathe.

“What is going on between you two?” Mary Beth asked in the
silence that stretched over the room.

In her heart of hearts, Felicity mourned the loss of
Destiny’s friendship. She looked around the table at the concerned faces of her
staff and forced a small smile to her lips. “Casper, I think it was your turn
to describe tonight’s specials.”

Casper stood. A compassionate look crossed his features
before he launched into his recitation.

Felicity heard not one word. Absently she traced the handle
of her fork with her finger. What was it with this week? She’d received the
best news of her life when Vern had given her the Bancroft Hotel, and yet
everything seemed to be conspiring against her ability to enjoy his gift.

“Friend or enemy?” Blake asked as he slipped an arm across
the back of her chair and leaned in, keeping his words between the two of them.

Blake’s fingers on her shoulder were warm and consoling, and
she liked the feel of him pressed against her side. “Hard to say these days,”
Felicity replied.

“Every successful business person has frenemies, you know.
The onetime friends who seem to turn on you when you start to achieve success.
I take it she gave you a bad review?”

Was he trying to make her feel better? “The worst.”

“Don’t let her get to you.”

Felicity stared down at the hand resting against her
shoulder, the one bearing Destiny’s phone number. “She can hurt me, if you give
her that interview.”

Blake gave her a lopsided smile. “I haven’t called her yet.
Besides, I promised this day to you. And thanks to our time together, I now
know how to peel and cook celery. We’ve had a tour of the hotel. You’ve used me
as free labor in your kitchen. What’s next?”

She appreciated his lighthearted tone and his attempt to make
her feel better. “This evening, you’re going to help me dress each dish before
it leaves the kitchen.”

With his other hand, he reached up and tucked a strand of
hair behind her ear. “I usually like undressing things better.”

Felicity felt her cheeks warm. “Wait until you see people eat
what you prepared. There’s no feeling like it.”

His brow arched. “This I do have to see to believe.”

“By the end of the night, you will.” Felicity drew a slow,
even breath, relieved that Destiny hadn’t stolen what Felicity had worked all
day to achieve. She’d prove to Blake that the Bancroft was more than just a
place to stay for a night or two or a place to dine. The Bancroft was a vital
part of the community and a second family for everyone who worked within its
walls.

At least that was what she hoped to prove before the night
was through.