WRECKER (11 page)

Fire and ice. His words either singed her or chilled her to the bone.

Five minutes later they pulled up to the hotel entrance. Two doormen came to the car. They opened the doors and a blast of wind hit her with such force she let out a small astonished shriek.

“Go inside,” he shouted over the wind.

She didn’t need to be told twice and hurried into the grand hotel. She rubbed the warmth into her arms and admired the trio of chandeliers suspended from the vaulted ceiling by enormous chains. They sparkled and glittered. Everything in the hotel did. The lobby was quiet with just a few guests walking past, heading down a wide hallway. At the end of the hallway there was a sign for the hotel restaurant. A young woman stood beside a podium, talking to people about their reservations.

Everything about the place oozed money and wealth and entitlement. The stair case was wide with a polished bannister curling into a swirl at the foot of the stairs. A crimson swath of carpet led up the stairs, the edges of each step worn, showing a threadbare patch of white. Elegant and formal, but a little tattered, the hotel seemed to be from a forgotten era, the 1920’s perhaps.

“This isn’t some dive,” Savannah murmured.

“It’s not,” Jack said as he walked in, putting his hand on her lower back and leading her to the front desk. He checked in under his name only. Maybe he was kidnapping her. She suppressed a laugh, but her body didn’t seem to think it was funny at all and tingled dangerously, threads of arousal skimming across her taut breasts.

She followed him and the bellboy to the elevator and up to the top floor. Their suite was enormous, a corner apartment with floor to ceiling windows that offered a stunning view. The hotel stood on a ridge high above the town. City lights twinkled below in the gathering gloom. The Grand Tetons jutted into the evening sky, several of the peaks shrouded in clouds.

The bellboy brought the luggage in and Savannah went to get her wallet so she could tip him.

“I’ve got it,” Jack said.

“I should at least-”

He shook his head dismissively, handed the bellboy some money and closed the door behind him. He took off his coat and loosened his tie.

She wished she had a little more in the height department. Standing five foot four to his six foot four made difficult conversations…well, difficult.

“What is this all about, Jack? Can you just tell me so I don’t have to wonder.”

Edging towards the window she tried to keep a little distance between them. It wasn’t fear she felt, just a flicker of apprehension. She was almost never alone with him, and when she was he made her feel vulnerable. It was an ever-present hint of worry.

Especially since last Fourth of July. She’d had a little too much wine at the family lunch and she’d called him an asshole. She was certain she’d said it quietly enough, but somehow he heard. That evening when the house was quiet, he’d cornered her, pinned her to the wall and kissed her. Not sweetly. Not gently. More like a warning. Before he let her go, he’d whispered words she’d never forgotten.

“Nobody talks to me that way. I know just the cure for your sassy mouth.”

He’d never taken any liberties with her at work or at home, but the threat always lurked in the back of her mind. And now she was in a hotel room with him. It was a suite with separate bedrooms and a den, but it still felt intimate. Wrong.

“Why are you so jumpy?” He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. Bare-chested, he was all menacing power. His chest was muscled and defined. His abs were chiseled and banded around a narrow, tapered waist. A band of tattoos inked his shoulder and arm, making him look more like a fighter than a pilot.

She looked away. It was an act of self-preservation. He was too much to look at and his athletic build made her starkly aware of her own soft curves.

“Maybe because I’m in a hotel room with you.” She bumped against the windowsill, unaware she’d been retreating from him. She gripped the sill and leaned against it in an attempt to look casual.

“Seems…different for us,” she said.

“You don’t need to be so worried. Not around me. We just have a few things we need to clarify is all. First I need to grab a shower.”

When the bathroom door closed with a bang she startled and closed her eyes. He was going to strip off the rest of his clothes and shower. In water. With soap. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to force the image from her mind…
Jack, naked in the shower, running a bar of soap over his chest…

She waited to hear the water running then sank down on the bed and fell back. When he gave her the job in September he told her there was a probationary period. He never said how long it was. Maybe she’d messed up. Or a passenger complained. He was going to fire her. She’d have to flip hamburgers. She let out a sigh she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and closed her eyes.

Chapter 2

Jack stepped out of the shower, dried off and shaved. He wanted to look clean-shaven for dinner and
especially
for what he had planned after dinner.

Some women liked his five o’clock shadow, called him
tall, dark and handsome
. He’d gotten that even as a teenager. His father had been half Italian and his mother liked to tease Jack that he got his good looks from him.

After his father died in a diving accident his mom had been single for over twenty years. His mother’s name appeared on random lists with titles like,
World’s Richest Single Women
, or
Wealthy and Beautiful and Unattached
. Low-lifes crawled out of the woodwork to pursue her. All of them were a lot more interested in her bank balance than anything else.

Savannah’s father, Weston, hadn’t seemed to know who she was when they met while working on the same non-profit board. He said he just liked her smile. And her laugh.

His mom and Weston were good together. Even though he didn’t like his stepfather, he had to admit his mother was happy. Weston didn’t
seem
to give a damn about her money or fame or status. He had plenty of his own. A high profile corporate lawyer, a single dad, he raised Savannah and two older sisters in a home with book shelves in every room. Not a single television. The girls were expected to make valedictorian and follow orders. His orders.

Jack finished shaving and pulled on his jeans, boots, and button-down, flannel shirt, the standard dress code for the cowboys in Jackson. The dining room at the Montgomery was expensive but still had the resort-hotel-anything-goes vibe. Some people would be in formal attire, some casual, some even in ski clothes.

He thought about his step-father. Weston Michaels didn’t like to be taken by surprise. That aspect of his personality became glaringly obvious when Savannah told him she was about to graduate with a degree in education instead of pre-law. He was pretty pissed, cutting her off completely. He told her he hadn’t invested in her education for four years so his daughter would get some bullshit degree.

Even Savannah’s two older sisters, Charlotte and Elizabeth, both in law school, were surprised by Weston’s response. But neither dared defy their father on her behalf. Jack’s mother told everyone she wanted to stay out of the argument entirely and Savannah was left with no support. Jack saw it as a perfect opportunity to charge in on his white horse.

And that was when things got interesting... Her father revealed his asshole side. Calling to say he didn’t want Savannah beholden to some womanizing bad boy.

Womanizing bad boy?
That
had almost hurt his feelings.

He stepped out of the bathroom and his eyes went directly to Savannah lying on the bed by the window, fast asleep. She lay on her side, lower leg straight and the other bent. She still wore her uniform. The tight skirt cupped her ass perfectly. He moved to the foot of the bed and looked at her form, imagined running his tongue from her ankle up the inside of her leg, all the way to her sweet ass. He’d wanted to do that many times before, but now was not the time.

Sometimes he wanted to charm her, other times to dominate her. His plan this weekend was to start with charm, for a day. To the best of his ability. That would be tricky for him, though… women rarely called him charming. Sexy. Domineering. Hard to read. He’d heard himself described all those way, but rarely ‘charming’. Never, actually.

He found the ring in his bag, took it from the box and slipped into his pocket. Five carets, pear cut, flawless, set on a platinum band. Even marriages of convenience required a decent ring. He’d wanted to offer it back in September. Weston thought Jack would somehow defile his princess… the thought amused him. She was beautiful, and sexy. He lusted after her and even stolen a kiss, but he wasn’t planning on making some sort of conquest. Not until his-stepfather raised the ante.

The goal was to let her think she was in control of the whole thing, calling all the shots, and once he had her at the cabin he’d begin his slow seduction. His blood heated and arousal flared across his senses.

She shifted and pulled her knees together. Lying on her side, knees tucked, she looked younger than her twenty one years. Her blonde hair was loose on the pillow, the smooth tresses starting to respond to the humidity. Small waves would soon give way to tendrils as the evening wore on. He smiled and thought about how much she hated her hair, constantly waging war on the gorgeous swathe of curls.

She moaned softly and stretched, her eyes fluttering open.

A bewildered look came over her face. Eyes widened and her lips parted as she drew a full breath. “Hey.”

Her voice was sleepy, breathy and the unguarded look in her eye did something to him. He shifted uncomfortably to ease the discomfort of the immediate erection. How could this woman manage to make his cock hard with a single word?

Lying on the bed, not moving, waiting for something from him… she was erotic, defenseless, seductive and innocent. Everything between them was fraught with contradictions. Every gesture stirred a primitive force inside him, a beast that wanted both to possess and protect.

But first he had to negotiate some terms with her. And that was after he fired her from his company. He wanted her off his payroll and in his bed. Permanently.

He drew a deep breath. “I want to take you to dinner.”

His words were meant to sound neutral, benign. Underneath the casual question lurked something very different.

I want to take my woman out. Show the world the girl who makes me crazy.

“You might be more comfortable in something else,” he added.

Like a lace bodysuit. Or a silk teddy. Or wearing nothing more than a silken cord wrapped around your wrists.

She looked down at her clothes. “Yea, I don’t want to wear my uniform to dinner. Someone might ask me for a coffee refill or a pillow.”

She got up and rummaged through her suitcase, then went to the bathroom. He imagined her sweet, lush body under the spray of water. He gritted his teeth. The shower started and he went to the window to enjoy the view. The sun was setting and just a few rays of sunlight remained. The Tetons, wreathed in mist, loomed even though they were at least ten miles from the hotel.

The hotel was old, but solid. It would require a good bit of investment to update it. Everything would be first-class. He’d close for a month in the spring after the ski season and put in a new kitchen. Ten of the sixty-five rooms would be remodeled, made into lofts. He’d hire new kitchen staff, a chef, a pastry chef and a sommelier.

The hotel would be the perfect destination for his fussy, spoiled airline clientele. He’d keep one of the lofts for himself and Savannah. He smiled at the plan. She could decorate it and make it perfect for the two of them to enjoy for a weekend or longer. The loft would have guest rooms for family.

Weston would forgive him eventually. So would Savannah’s sisters. Maybe. Damn lawyers…

It didn’t take long for Savannah to emerge from the bathroom, dressed in jeans and a sweater. Nothing was as tight as he would have liked, but when it came to Savannah he always wanted a more.

She brushed her hair, muttering how impossible it was to do anything with it. He imagined her hair wound around his hand as he kissed her, or draping past her shoulders, the ends of her tresses skimming the small of her back.

The wild mass of honeyed waves might annoy her, but he loved it.

Finally she was dressed and ready and he led her out of the room, down the hallway. Instead of taking the elevator, they went down the stairs. The bannister, polished mahogany, gleamed in the soft light. The workmanship of the hotel was subtle, pure elegance. A startling contrast to the rugged mountains. The carpenters and master woodcrafters came from Austria, brought to America to work on the hotel by the original owner.

The outside was stone, hewn from the mountains. He loved the history of the old, sprawling hotel. The grand ballrooms that had been the site of lavish parties and weddings over the last century. The secret passages and doorways used during prohibition. The presidential rooms pressed into service during World War II, for covert meetings between heads of state.

“Everything is so beautiful,” Savannah murmured, trailing her fingers across the gentle slope of the handrail.

“I knew you would love it.”