What The Millionaire Wants...: What the Millionaire Wants... / Spencer's Forbidden Passion

Five

Seated in the dining room of the Contessa Hotel, Jack kept his eyes trained on the doorway and awaited the arrival of Chloe Baxter. Fitzpatrick had managed to locate Laura’s half sister—in New Orleans, where she had been since Thanksgiving weekend. Funny how Laura had failed to mention the fact that her sister was visiting. But then, she had studiously avoided him since that night they’d gone to see the Christmas lights in the park. On those occasions when their paths had crossed, she had been all business. It was as though the woman he had laughed with and kissed in the park had never even existed.

Only he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that woman. It was difficult for him to look at her and not remember how sweet she had tasted, how good she had felt in his arms. Even more difficult was wondering if his stepbrother was the personal business she’d left town for two days ago. Jack closed his fist around the glass of Scotch as he considered that possibility. According to the detective, there had been no record of Peterson booking a flight in or out of New Orleans last weekend. But knowing Peterson’s tastes and ability to manipulate, he could just as easily have gotten someone to fly him in on a private plane. Maybe one of his rich college buddies or someone in the moneyed crowd his father was so tight with. Or maybe even one of the corporate idiots that Peterson had conned into backing his political run.

Or maybe he’d been wrong and Peterson had never been in town after all. Had Laura gone to see him? It certainly would explain her sudden leave on personal business. According to Fitzpatrick Investigations, she had booked a flight to San Francisco with a stop in L.A., and there were no hotel reservations anywhere in her name. But then, why would she need a hotel room if she was sleeping with his stepbrother?

A white-hot anger seethed inside him at the image of Laura with Peterson. He tossed back a swallow of Scotch, but it did nothing to soothe the gnawing in his gut. If she was with his stepbrother, it wouldn’t be for much longer, he assured himself. He knew through his sources in the financial arena that her attempt to secure a personal loan from the bank by pledging her own stock as collateral had been turned down. With only twenty days left on the thirty-day proviso, she was running out of options quickly. Once the designated time to cure the default was up, the hotel—or at least eighty percent of its stock and the controlling interest in it—would belong to him.

And so would Laura.

He would win their bet. And once he had her in his bed, he would wipe any trace of his stepbrother from her body, from her mind, from her soul.

Jack frowned. He was competitive. No one did what he did for a living without possessing a strong competitive streak. The truth was he enjoyed a challenge, thrived on taking risks. The higher the stakes, the more exciting he found the game. And he’d be lying to himself if the thought of taking Laura from Peterson didn’t appeal to him on a very personal level. It did.

But it was more than that, Jack admitted. Even before he’d known about her connection to his stepbrother, she had set his competitive juices flowing and his hormones into a state of lust. Just remembering how she’d looked that night in the Carousel Gardens with her cheeks flushed, her eyes filled with desire and her body taut sent adrenaline pumping through his system. She’d been like some wild creature and every male hormone in his body demanded that he capture and possess her.

Disturbed by the admission, Jack shoved the images from his mind. Laura had been right. Making that bet with her had been crazy. He had been crazy. To offer the note he’d paid fifteen million dollars for against a night with her in his bed had been insane. It didn’t matter that she stood little chance of winning the bet. The fact that he had even agreed to the terms had been flat-out reckless. Worse, it had been the act of a man making a decision guided by his hormones instead of by sound business sense.

So why did you do it, Hawke?

Because he wanted her. And he fully intended to have her.

“Would you like another Scotch, Mr. Hawke?”

Jack glanced down at his empty glass, then up at the waitress who stood at his table. Dressed in a crisp black-and-white uniform and wearing a name tag with Tina written on it, she gave him a friendly smile. Reasoning that he had no farther to travel than the elevator to his room, he said, “Sure.”

“I’ll be right back,” she told him and wove her way through the busy restaurant toward the kitchen.

Shaking off his disturbing thoughts about Laura, Jack glanced around the restaurant. There was a nice crowd, he noted. Laura’s decision to open the dining room on weeknights to draw from the local business clientele leaving work had been a smart move. So had extending the dinner hours on the weekends. Both were moves he would have implemented himself. Some well-placed advertisements and a few local TV and radio spots to capitalize on the popular chef’s affiliation with the Contessa would fill the remaining tables. He made a mental note to discuss a series of print and TV ads with Laura. Of course, that was assuming she agreed to stay on as general manager when she lost the bet.

The bet.

Had Laura been thinking about those stakes as much as he had? he wondered. That kiss they had shared had given him a glimpse of what it would be like between them. Even now he wondered how the night might have ended had he not played the gentleman and ended it when he had.

“Here you go,” the waitress said as she placed the Scotch in front of him.

“Thanks.” Jack started to take a sip, then decided against it. Instead, he picked up the knife on the place setting before him. Made of quality stainless steel, he noted as he traced the blade with his fingertip. It was also sharp enough to cut his finger if he wasn’t careful. A lot like Laura, he thought—attractive, of excellent quality and dangerous if a man wasn’t careful.

He was always careful, Jack reminded himself. Putting aside the knife, he checked his watch. Thirty minutes late. Evidently, punctuality wasn’t one of Chloe Baxter’s virtues, he decided. He was just beginning to wonder if the woman would be a no-show when he spied the striking blonde in the doorway. At first, he wouldn’t have pegged her for Laura’s sister. On second glance though, he noted the shape of her eyes and the long legs were very much like Laura’s. She was a real head-turner, Jack thought as the hostess led her toward his table. Judging by the number of appreciative male looks cast her way, he wasn’t the only one who thought so. He stood as she approached. “Ms. Baxter,” he said and extended his hand. “I’m Jackson Hawke.”

She shook his hand firmly. “Mr. Hawke,” she said in a voice that had a smoky tone to it.

Once she was seated, he asked, “Would you care for something to drink?”

She looked up at the waitress, smiled. “I’d love a glass of merlot.”

Jack ordered a bottle from a select vintage and once the waitress was gone, he said, “I appreciate your agreeing to meet with me.”

Amusement lit her hazel eyes. “We both know that I came here in exchange for your promise that you’d schedule a meeting with Meredith Grant to discuss her company, Connections.”

“Yes. And I have to say, your request surprised me. As an actress, I would have thought you would have traded for an introduction for yourself to a producer or casting director. After all, I do know several. But instead, you asked for something for a former stepsister. Why is that?”

“Meredith’s my sister. Just because our parents divorced doesn’t mean she and I stop being sisters. And contrary to what most people think, not all actresses are self-centered divas. Meredith has been trying for months to get an appointment with you and your office keeps turning her down.” She sat back in her seat, crossed her legs and met his gaze. “When you called and asked me to meet with you, I saw an opportunity to get her that appointment and took it.”

Jack nodded. “I appreciate your candor, Ms. Baxter.”

“Then I hope you’ll appreciate that I intend to have you book that meeting with Meredith before I leave here today.”

“I’ll book the meeting—just as long as both you and Ms. Grant understand that I’m not interested in a matchmaking service.”

“Connections does more than matchmaking,” she told him. “It connects people for business reasons, too. That’s what Meredith wants to meet with you about.”

“Very well, Ms. Baxter. I’ll keep my promise and book the meeting with Ms. Grant,” he assured her. “In exchange, you promised to listen to my offer and hear about my plans for the hotel with an open mind. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” she replied. “And the name’s Chloe.”

“Very well, Chloe. And my name’s Jack.”

“All right, Jack. I’m listening.”

She listened while he told her about his reasons for wanting to buy the hotel. She listened as he explained the difficulties of competing in the hotel market in the post-Katrina city. She listened as he told her about his plans to restore the Contessa and make it a viable, revenue-producing property.

“If you’re able to do what you say, it seems the smart thing for me to do would be to hold on to my stock because it’ll be worth a lot more down the road.”

“That’s true. But that’s at least a year or two away,” he said as he leaned back in his chair. “Accepting my two million dollars now would mean you wouldn’t have to take another waitress job and you could study full-time at the L.A. Theater Institute.”

She lifted her eyebrow. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you did your homework on me. Laura said you were smart.”

“Did she now? What else did your sister say about me?”

She smiled. “I think she mentioned something about your being an arrogant Neanderthal who—”

Laughing, he held up his hand. “I think I get the picture.”

“I thought you would,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “Although I’m not sure the Neanderthal fits. I expected you to be bigger…and ugly.”

He laughed.

So did she.

And they were both laughing when an unsmiling Laura walked into the dining room. Damn, but she looked good, Jack thought. No suit today, he noted. She was dressed in an ivory sweater with a red ribbon bow shooting across the shoulder and a skinny-fitting skirt of lipstick-red that gave him an enticing view of those killer legs. Her mouth was painted that same shade of red and Jack found himself itching to taste it.

“See something you like, Jack?”

Jack shot a look over at Chloe and, given the amused expression on her face and tone in her voice, his appraisal of her sister hadn’t gone unnoticed. As Laura approached their table, Jack stood. “How was your…vacation? It was a vacation, wasn’t it? Your assistant said you were off on personal business.”

“My trip was fine,” Laura said drily, her attention focused on her younger sister. “Hello, Chloe.”

“Hi, sis. You’re back early. I thought your flight wasn’t due in until after nine tonight,” Chloe said.

“I was able to get an earlier flight. I thought you had a date tonight,” Laura said, accusation in her voice.

“I do—but not until later. So I decided to take Jack up on his dinner offer.”

He knew very little about siblings, particularly siblings who loved one another. His only experience had been the hurtful experiences and bitterness that permeated his relationship with Matt Peterson. Whatever was going on between Laura and Chloe was different—and whatever it was, it was generating a lot of tension. In an effort to diffuse some of that tension, he said, “We were just about to order coffee and dessert. Would you like to join us?”

“No, thanks. I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on. Besides, I wouldn’t want to interrupt you while you’re trying to charm my sister into selling you her stock.”

Chloe waved her hand in dismissal. “Lighten up, Laura. As charming as he is, Jack already knows that I have no intention of selling him my stock. Don’t you, Jack?”

He did know it. But judging by the look of relief on Laura’s face, she hadn’t been quite so sure. “Yes, I know you’re not going to sell,” he said. “But it doesn’t mean I haven’t enjoyed our time together or that I’ll stop trying to convince you.” He looked over at Laura. “Either of you.”

“And as I’ve already told you, you’re wasting your time,” Laura said.

Annoyed by her dismissal and wondering whether or not a rendezvous with his stepbrother, Matt, was the reason, Jack said, “Speaking of wasting time, before you take off on another trip, you might want to remember that there are only twenty days left before one of us has to pay up on that bet. I’m counting on that someone being you.”

Back in her office, Laura tried to focus on the letters awaiting her signature and block out all thoughts of Jackson Hawke. The man was infuriating. She’d wanted to wipe that cocky smile off his face. And at the same time, she’d wanted to jump his bones. Just remembering the way he had looked at her—as if he’d wanted to swallow her whole—made her pulse stutter, her body hot.

“All right,” Chloe said, marching into Laura’s office and slamming the door behind her. “What’s going on between you and Jack? And what’s this about a bet?”

Laura didn’t bother to look up from her paperwork. “I thought you had a date.”

“Forget about my date. I want some answers.”

Laura sighed. “Nothing’s going on and the bet doesn’t concern you.”

“It sure didn’t look like nothing to me. You two were generating enough heat between you to keep this hotel warm for the entire winter. And when Jack mentioned that bet, you turned as red as that skirt you’re wearing before you stormed out of the dining room.”

“You’re wrong.”

Chloe planted her hands on the desk, got in her face. “Laura, this is me you’re talking to. I may not know anything about running a hotel, but I do know about sexual chemistry. And believe me, there was definitely some serious sexual chemistry cooking between you two.”

Her sister was right, Laura admitted to herself. There was sexual chemistry between them. And for her there was something more, something she hadn’t wanted. She had hoped that kiss in the park had just been a fluke, that these feelings she was starting to have for Jack weren’t real and would disappear with the light of day and with some distance. But they hadn’t disappeared. If anything, they were getting stronger. In fact, he was the reason she had come home early from California. She had actually missed him, had even wondered if she had misjudged him. She had gone so far as to hope that maybe she wasn’t the only one who had felt there was something more than desire happening between them. Only when she’d seen him with Chloe, believing he was trying to buy her sister’s stock, she’d realized she had been kidding herself. Sure, Jackson Hawke might want to have sex with her, but what he really wanted was the Contessa. His reminder that in twenty days he intended to take the Contessa from her only served to bring home that fact.

“Since I turned down two million dollars for my stock because this place means so much to you, I think I deserve some answers,” Chloe pointed out. “Tell me what’s going on and why you’re so upset.”

Laura told her sister everything. She told her about the bet she had made with Jack in the heat of the moment. She told her about the evening they had spent together at the park viewing the Christmas lights. She told her about the kiss and the feelings it had stirred inside her.

“It sounds to me like you might be falling for the guy,” Chloe responded. “There’s nothing wrong with that. You said you and Matt weren’t exclusive anymore. And you can bet the wannabe-congressman isn’t spending his nights alone. Or did he manage to convince you to change your mind about that when you were out in California?”

“Matt didn’t convince me to change my mind about anything because I didn’t see him. I went to see Papa Vincenzo and his family because I canceled on them at Thanksgiving,” she said, referring to one of their former stepfathers.

“Then I don’t see where you hooking up with Jack should be a problem.”

“It’s a problem because I’m not into one-night stands or casual sex. And that’s what it would be with a man like Hawke.”

“You don’t know that,” Chloe argued.

No, she didn’t know it for a fact. But she had a pretty good idea that Hawke was not a man who was into long-term relationships or commitments. She was. “But I do know that the man’s a shark. He’s a corporate raider. Half the companies he buys, he dismantles and sells them off in pieces for a profit. And now he’s intent on doing that to our hotel.”

“Not according to him,” her sister told her. “Besides, if you ask me, Mr. Jackson Hawke seemed a lot more interested in winning that bet and you than he is in foreclosing on the hotel.”

“Yes, he is. Isn’t he?” He did seem intent on the bet, Laura realized, and found herself wondering why. While she didn’t doubt for a second that he wanted her, there had been moments when she’d caught him looking at her, with something more than desire in his eyes. There had been anger and determination and something else all mixed in with his wanting her. What she didn’t understand was why. “Don’t you find that odd? That he’s more focused on the bet than the hotel?”

“What I think, dear sister, is you think too much.” Walking around to the other side of Laura’s desk, Chloe opened the drawer and stole a bag of chocolate-covered nuts from her stash. When Laura attempted to take them back, Chloe quickly moved out of her reach. “You know what else I think?” she asked as she ripped open the bag and popped several of the candies into her mouth.

“No. But I imagine you’re going to tell me.”

“I think Jackson Hawke’s got a case of the hots for you. And I think you’ve got the hots for him. So I say quit analyzing it to death and enjoy it.”

“And I say you’re going to be late for your date,” Laura said, wanting to end the discussion.

“All right, I’m going. But seriously, Laura, there are a lot worse things that could happen than to find yourself waking up in Hawke’s bed.”

There were a lot worse things that could happen than her ending up in Jackson Hawke’s bed, Laura conceded. One worse thing that came to her mind was losing the Contessa Hotel. Not wanting to think about that possibility or about Jack, she fortified herself with a chocolate peanut-butter cup, then tackled the mountain of reports and correspondence that had accumulated in her absence.

After she’d finished going through the budget reports and projections, she reached for the folder of incoming mail. A quick glance revealed several solicitations, bills and subscriptions. Then she spied an unopened envelope from the Jardine Law Firm. Her stomach pitched. It was the same firm that had handled the foreclosure paperwork for Hawke. Ripping open the envelope, she pulled out the document.

Quickly, she skimmed the legal jargon and zeroed in on the name Hawke Industries.

In accordance with Hawke Industries’ purchase of the above-referenced note, Hawke Industries and/or its appointed representative are hereby granted access to said hotel property in order to perform the due diligence afforded Hawke Industries as purchaser of said note. Hawke Industries and/or its appointed representative will not be afforded the right to take any actions or implement any changes in the hotel, its management, personnel or operations until such time that the thirty-day grace period on the loan has expired and the shares of stock in the hotel are transferred to Hawke Industries. Also in accordance with the purchase of the above-referenced note, Hawke Industries and/or its appointed representative will be provided suitable office work space to perform said due-diligence process connected with the sale.

Laura didn’t bother reading any further. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t just waltz in and take over before the thirty days were up. And if he’d been planning to do this, why hadn’t he told her? With temper blazing and the attorney’s letter crumpled in her fist, she headed for the penthouse suite. The ride up the slow-moving elevator only added to her mood. By the time she exited the car, she was nearly trembling with anger and frustration. Marching over to the ornate door of the penthouse, she punched the doorbell to the suite. She counted to ten and when Jack didn’t answer, she pounded on the door with her fist.

No answer.

She beat on the door again. “Hawke, open this door now.” When he still failed to respond, Laura didn’t hesitate. Reaching into her skirt pocket, she pulled out the master key card she always carried that allowed management access to all rooms in the hotel for emergency purposes. She zipped it into the lock. The green light kicked on, unlocking the door.

“Hawke, get out here,” she demanded from the entrance.

Nothing.

“Hawke,” she yelled as she tried to find him in the living and dining room areas. Ignoring the laptop computer and mounds of files, she began searching the rest of the suite. The first two bedrooms were empty. Growing angrier by the second, she pushed open the door to the master suite. Still no Hawke. She spied the door to the bathroom ajar, heard the buzz of an electric razor. Intent on confronting him, Laura made a beeline for the bathroom. She shoved the door open and sent it banging sharply against the wall. And there Jack stood in front of the sink, naked from the waist up, with a towel anchored around his hips and a razor buzzing in his hand.

Surprise flickered across his features for a moment as he shut off the razor. “Hello, Laura. Was there something you wanted?” he asked, an edge in his voice.