Hush. Jo Leigh
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tour and with the CPA.”
“Thank you, Caroline. See you later.” Looking at Trace, she said, “You can go through the rest of the spa when it’s time for your appointment. I’ve got bartenders to interview before we can go over the accounting.”
He nodded, walking with her into the hall. “What was all that about the couples’ massage?”
“What?”
“Are we talking about breaking laws here? Is that why you didn’t want to take one with me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s for lovers, okay? Not people you can barely tolerate.”
“Dost thou protest too much?”
“You wish, you perv.”
“Excuse me? Pot. Kettle?”
“Nothing in this hotel is illegal. Not at the pool, not in the gym and not in the spa.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I’m not a madam.”
“Then what’s the problem if there’s no line-crossing?”
She moved close to him, hating that she had to look up to meet his eyes. “Well, this explains a lot.”
He raised his brow.
“Lovers, Trace, are two people who care about each other more than they care for themselves. You can look it up if you don’t believe me.”
He took a step closer to her, invading her space. But she’d be damned if she’d back away.
“And you’d know about that, how?” he said dryly. “Oh, that’s right. Your latest rock-and-roll boy. I hear he has a really big…microphone.”
Piper trembled as she clamped her hands to her sides. “Have all the massages you want. Do it with a poodle for all I care. Do whatever you want, I don’t give a damn.”
“You’d miss me if I were gone.”
“Let’s try it and find out, shall we?”
He laughed. “God, you are a piece of work. You can take the woman out of the tabloids, but you can’t take the tabloids out of the woman.”
“You really don’t know the first thing about me, do you?” she asked. And then she turned on her heel and walked to the elevator. It was still open, and she pressed the button before he could join her. When the doors closed, she slumped against the wall. She wasn’t going to survive it. Not for a week.
He was her poison, her worst nightmare, and he knew more about making her insane than anyone, including her father.
TRACE DIDN’T CALL the elevator back. He ran his hand through his hair, annoyed that he’d baited Piper like that. She drove him completely insane. Who did she think she was trying to kid?
He’d known her for too long to buy into this game she was playing. She might be able to fool the media, but there was no way Trace was buying into her act.
The hotel was a game, pure and simple. A way to stick it to Daddy. Just like the musician boyfriends, the drugs and the parties, the ridiculous spectacle she made of herself. He’d seen the pictures, seen her in front of the paparazzi. She could have been so much more. But she preferred the attention, the notoriety. She had the makings of an incredible woman, but she just couldn’t break free from her image.
What he didn’t understand was why he cared. Why he still felt compelled to needle her, to make her squirm. Shit. Bad imagery. Damn.
THE INTERVIEW for the new bartender had gone well, and once they checked out Shandi’s references, she’d be a welcome addition. Just before four, Piper was in her office, going over the material the CPA would need for his meeting with Trace. She had no intention of staying.
Thankfully, her assistant, Angela, was so well informed that Piper wouldn’t be missed. She could tell Angela was confused about her skipping the meeting, but it didn’t matter. Piper had to get out, get away. There were a million things she could have done, but she wanted nothing to do with any of them. The second she could, she grabbed her bag and went down to the garage. She wasn’t sure where she was going, just anywhere but here. Anywhere Trace wasn’t.
Two limos were parked, ready to whisk her away. She could go to the Hamptons, Martha’s Vineyard, the airport.
Of course, she’d have to be back at some point. Despite her desire to disappear, the hotel was so damn close to opening, she couldn’t be away for long. Just thinking about all she had to do this week was enough to send her into a panic attack.
On the other hand, a panic attack would be better than what she was feeling now.
The valet stood at a respectful distance, sharp in his uniform, waiting attentively, but not obtrusively. Which was excellent, but it made her very aware that she was running away. That she’d let Trace get to her. Again.
She thought about going back inside, walking into the meeting as if nothing at all was wrong, but found herself wanting to head over to Fifth Avenue. Halfway to the limo, she heard something that stopped her. It wasn’t a voice, but a sound. A rather pitiful meow that cut straight through her roiling craziness.
It was dark in the garage and it wasn’t easy to discern the direction of the noise. A cat. A little one, she thought, but maybe it was just ill.
She hated that. Animals were her weakness, and although she donated a ton of money to shelters around the country, she still wanted to pick up every stray she saw. If she wasn’t careful, she’d turn into one of those cat ladies whose houses smelled like a litter box.
So she had three cats. No biggie. Her place was really large, and there was always someone around to take care of them.
The kitty cried again, and Piper got a bead on it behind the Dumpsters. She inched her way closer to the sad, sad sound, her heart aching. “Here, baby. Don’t be scared.”
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