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Run for Covers
Jeanie London


Personally sampling every erotic attraction is not part of the deal. When Adam Grant agrees to give newspaper reporter Tori Ford the hotel's inside story, he never dreams she'll insist on his full cooperation and participation.This button-down executive is in for an even bigger surprise when it turns out that she really wants to unbutton him.Tori's campaign to get Adam to drop his inhibitions doesn't miss a trick. When she finally persuades him to join in her fun bedtime games, she knows anything goes. And soon their sexual games become a race to see who hits the covers first.









Didn’t Tori Ford think about anything but sex?


If answering the door wearing little more than a transparent robe over her lingerie was any indication, no, she did not. And that was bad news for Adam and his determination to remain strictly professional. He could pretend she was fully clothed—and hope she didn’t do anything more outrageous.

“Shall I come back later?” he asked in a voice that didn’t sound as raw-edged as he felt. Despite his intentions, his gaze drifted to her pouty lips pursed to kissable perfection. So tempting… He should have had the self-control to stop there.

He didn’t. His gaze fell to her breasts, barely concealed by her silky bra, to her slim waist, to the scrap of fabric that hardly qualified as panties.

The blood drained from his head so fast he felt dizzy. He immediately raised his eyes, catching Tori’s sexy smile.

“Actually, I need your help with the zipper of my dress.” She turned and walked into the room, treating him to a remarkable view of her backside.

This was one temptation he couldn’t resist.







Dear Reader,

I hope you’re enjoying my steamy miniseries FALLING INN BED…and the various ways that falling in bed can lead to falling in love.

After Laura and Dale (Hot Sheets, Blaze #153) finally gave in to their long-term lust, I decided to explore a case of “sparks at first sight.” After all, falling in love should be fun, and I’ve never met a man more in need of lightening up than Adam Grant. As the assistant general manager of the “most romantic getaway,” he has a responsibility to his guests, and himself, to get into the spirit of things.

Fortunately for Adam, reporter Tori Ford arrives to cover the Naughty Nuptials, and as it turns out, she’s not content to report what’s happening at Falling Inn Bed—she wants to experience the magic for herself. Now she just has to convince Adam to share that magic, too….

I hope you enjoy Tori and Adam’s love story. Let me know. Drop me a line at www.JeanieLondon.com. And look for Miranda and Troy’s story, Pillow Chase, Blaze #161, coming next month!

Very truly yours,

Jeanie London




Run for Covers

Jeanie London







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To Stephanie Kondas. Thirteen seems like forever ago (it was?!) and I’ve appreciated every day of your friendship since. Now repeat after me, “We’re going to be *sskickin’ little old ladies who know how to have fun…in the very distant future!”




Contents


Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue




Prologue


SEXUAL CHEMISTRY wasn’t a thing like champagne.

Tori Ford always knew what to expect when she poured a flute of her favorite beverage—perfectly chilled, a sugar cube tossed in because more fizz made that first sip burst over her tongue like tiny orgasms.

With sexual chemistry, on the other hand, she never knew quite what to expect. Fortunately, Tori liked surprises because her latest assignment had started off with a bang. She never expected to walk through the grand entrance of Falling Inn Bed, and Breakfast, known locally as Falling Inn Bed, and get caught up in the spirit of this romance resort so quickly.

Oh, she knew all about the place. No one who lived in Niagara Falls could have missed the rebirth of this historic property from failing hotel to winner of the prestigious Most Romantic Getaway Award, lauded by hospitality magazines and industry periodicals worldwide.

With a philosophy that translated into something like “Life belongs to lovers and lovers belong naked,” Falling Inn Bed backed up their stance with romance-themed suites designed to get couples feeling amorous. They even let staff members with titles such as the bedding consultant loose on their guests.

While a big proponent of anything promoting l’amour, Tori reserved opinion on the inn’s bedding consultant. She reserved opinion on a few things about her latest reporting assignment, actually—including walking through the door to a powerful case of lust at first sight. Yet one look at Adam Grant, the too-attractive assistant general manager, and the bulb on her lust-o-meter popped like a cork from a champagne bottle.

That the man looked like someone her family would approve of came as another surprise. Tori usually went for the rough-around-the-edges, daring and dangerous types who wouldn’t be welcomed within five miles of the family mansion.

But her family would have flung the doors wide for this one, with his neat sable hair and black eyes. His custom-tailored suit hugged his body like a glove. He was tall, handsome and too conservative with a composed air of self-assurance.

Adam made her itch to rough up the veneer of powerful male he wore along with his intense expression. And while his businesslike appearance and serious demeanor didn’t interest her, everything simmering below it did.

As a reporter, Tori’s observation skills were top notch. She recognized the calm deliberation in his gaze, the calculating mind, the tension in the impressive body that convinced her he was equally aware of her. But instead of checking her out, this guy locked his sex appeal tight under lock and key.

And then she knew exactly what it was about Adam Grant that interested her…well, besides his handsome face.

They were kindred souls.

Once upon a time, Tori’s every waking moment had been spent trying to live up to her family’s expectations. While her surname might be Ford, she was a member of the prestigious Prescott family compliments of her mother, and being a Prescott meant keeping up appearances at all costs. But she’d eventually realized that life was too precious to spend all her time worrying about living up to other people’s expectations.

She’d gotten smart.

People weren’t perfect—except for her mother and sister, who’d mastered the art of appearing that way. But at what cost? They didn’t take time to enjoy their lives. They always wore a smile for the press and never did anything that would risk starting any gossip. They never had any fun, and it was sucking the joy right out of them.

So she’d washed her hands of trying to live up to everyone else’s expectations and decided the only person she needed to satisfy was herself.

And that was why Adam had resonated so strongly with her—he clearly hadn’t learned yet that life was for living. They shared all this incredible chemistry, yet he wore his professionalism like armor.

Could she help him lighten up and enjoy himself?

Tori wanted to answer that question, along with a number of others about what was taking place behind the scenes at Falling Inn Bed. She finally had a chance to prove herself a competent reporter to her managing editor, who’d previously buried her on the municipal beat because she was the senator’s granddaughter.

Until meeting this too-composed man who made her mouth water, she wasn’t sure just how to prove herself, but now Tori knew exactly what she needed to do.

She needed to live the magic of Falling Inn Bed for herself. Then she’d report to her readers and bowl this town over with her journalistic skill and ability to sell newspapers.

And whom better to experience that magic with than the inn’s assistant general manager?

“If you’ll join me, Ms. Ford,” Adam Grant said in a rich, smoothly polished voice that rippled through her like the first sip of really fizzy champagne. “I’ll introduce you to the rest of the management team and bring you up to speed with where we are in the schedule of grand opening events.”

“It’ll be my pleasure to join you, Mr. Grant,” she said with just enough innuendo to blast his cool professionalism straight into personal.

One sable brow lifted before he schooled his expression. But control wasn’t meant to be part of this equation. When he touched her elbow to guide her down a hallway marked Business Offices, Tori felt wired to the man with a current. A quick glance into his dark gaze assured her he felt it, too.

Sometimes, there was just no explaining chemistry. And most of the time, there was no resisting it.

Tori wondered if Adam Grant knew that.

Giving him a smile that said Run for cover!, she felt another thrill when a tiny frown appeared between his brows, a look that convinced her he was expecting the worst from her.

No, this assignment wasn’t turning out to be anything at all like champagne….




1


DIDN’T TORI Ford think about anything but sex?

Adam Grant wished she would, but the local reporter who’d unexpectedly become his escort for the duration of this grand opening didn’t seem interested in much else. She’d made it her life’s quest to teach him to have fun, and sex apparently topped her list of fun pastimes.

While he generally appreciated ambitious, focused women, Tori Ford was beyond ambitious and focused. She was outrageous. Not only had she promised to do whatever it took to get her story, she wanted to experience that story for herself.

She wanted to live the magic of Falling Inn Bed, and Breakfast with him.

Adam didn’t get personal with guests or co-workers, and in her current capacity, Tori Ford qualified as the latter.

So here he was, trying to run interference so the grand opening won good reviews, and this reporter’s no-holds-barred tenacity went head-to-head with his no-holds-barred professionalism. Adam had a strict business ethic, honed at the knees of the elderly grandparents who’d raised him.

Business was business. Personal was personal.

By separating the two, his grandparents had run a successful manufacturing operation for over half a century while keeping their marriage equally successful.

He wouldn’t mix business with pleasure. And certainly not with a woman only interested in living her story.

Unfortunately, keeping business and pleasure separated during this grand opening was proving to be a problem. The promotional event inaugurating the new Wedding Wing had been dubbed the Naughty Nuptials for good reason. Every function was designed exclusively for couples, with sex front and center.

The harder he tried to keep their relationship professional in the face of all that sex, the more Tori Ford kept trying to get personal. She saw everything as an opportunity to taunt him into joining the fun.

Like now, for example. While the featured bridal couple posed for photos after the ceremony, Tori had slipped away to her suite to freshen her makeup.

Or so she’d said.

Most women Adam knew didn’t undress to put on mascara, and when he returned to accompany her to the reception, Tori opened her door about as undressed as she could be short of greeting him in the buff. The beaded gown she’d worn to the wedding had been replaced by a transparent robe.

Equally transparent was her ploy to breach the boundaries of professional behavior. Looking back, Adam supposed any request to visit her suite should have been suspect. She’d been using these ploys often enough in the two days of their acquaintance, each time upping the stakes.

Tori Ford scored a big hit this time.

She even looked like sex. All creamy skin and vibrant red hair, she tempted him with slim curves covered in barely there undergarments. The robe only reached the top of her thighs and hung open to reveal more than it concealed.

He was thinking personal now. Despite himself, his gaze dropped from the tumble of bright hair to the beautiful face where midnight-blue eyes watched him and pouty lips pursed to kissable perfection.

She wore a necklace of unusual design. Swirls of gold encircled her neck, with a solitary teardrop emerald dangling toward her cleavage. The silky bra clung to her breasts, muting blush-colored nipples but doing nothing to hide the tight tips pointing to needy little peaks.

He should have had enough self-control to stop there.

He didn’t. Adam tortured himself further by skimming his gaze down that expanse of slim waist and smooth stomach to the scrap of matching fabric that hardly qualified as panties. The filmy triangle rode low, directing his attention to the juncture of sleek thighs, where he could detect the faintest hint of golden-red hair beneath.

The blood drained from his head so fast he felt dizzy.

And still Adam couldn’t stop. He was human, after all, and even worse, he hadn’t had sex since his ex-fiancée had broken off their engagement, prompting his move across the country to take this management position at Falling Inn Bed, and Breakfast.

Right now he wished he’d never left Seattle.

Yet the career move had seemed a good opportunity at the time, before he faced Tori’s shapely legs showcased on strappy high heels and her determination to get him into bed.

Sweeping his gaze over her again, he said in a voice that didn’t sound as raw-edged as he felt, “Shall I come back later?”

He would not let her know she’d scored a hit.

“No need. I was just taking a breather. Don’t let anyone ever tell you beaded gowns aren’t heavy.” She fanned herself with a manicured hand. “It’s warm in here. How is it out there?”

“The temperature’s fine, Ms. Ford.” Nothing wrong with the inn’s climate control system, despite the summer heat.

His body temperature proved a different matter.

“I keep asking you to call me Tori.” She flashed him an exasperated smile. “Why don’t you come in? I won’t take long.”

Though she issued her invitation casually, Adam recognized this maneuver for what it was—another move toward personal.

If she could get him inside the Wedding Knight Suite, they’d be a step closer to the bed. And with her looking the way she did, she’d keep him awake all night.

The memory of her in that robe would keep him awake tonight anyway, but he wouldn’t tip his hand to Tori. Not when he’d declined to participate in her contest of wills. Regardless of how much his body urged him otherwise.

“I’ll wait out here for you.”

“In the hallway?”

He inclined his head, not offering further explanation. He’d already established where he stood on this issue, and wouldn’t play her game by rationalizing his decision. To do so would only imply she might sway him the other way. She couldn’t.

Leaving the door open wide, she turned and walked away, treating him to a remarkable view of her backside. The see-through robe made it impossible not to notice how the T-back panties disappeared between her shapely cheeks, and combined with those nicely toned thighs… His body heat went on the rise again.

Letting his eyes drift shut, Adam inhaled deeply and willed his body to behave, implementing a cleansing technique he used before working out. Karate was his sport of choice and at the moment, he appreciated the strict discipline it demanded. Another deep breath tempered the memory of a half-naked Tori Ford. Slowly the tension receded, and his body came firmly back into his grasp.

Opening his eyes, Adam straightened his tie and waited, as prepared for her next move as he’d ever be. Reformulating his game plan proved more difficult. He simply didn’t understand this woman. Why she thought he needed rescuing from a dreary existence was a mystery. True, work had taken up most of his time since he’d made the move to Niagara Falls, but that was normal when establishing a new career path.

And he’d done nothing to encourage her interest. In fact, he’d resisted her every attempt to engage him—and she’d made many. Since they’d met, she’d been teasing him and trying to provoke a reaction. Yes, they had chemistry, but that didn’t mean they had to act on it.

Unfortunately, the not acting kept getting tougher. He couldn’t help wondering what Tori’s next move would be, and they were only a couple of days into this grand opening. Naughty Nuptials comprised three weeks of events. When Wild, Wild Weddings concluded after tonight’s reception, he still had to survive Risqué Receptions and Hottest Honeymoons.

Somehow, Adam would manage. Tori Ford might be determined to get her scoop on the inn, but he was equally determined to prove this establishment, despite its status as a romance resort, conducted business on the level. Promoting romance between couples wasn’t synonymous with orgies in the main lobby, and Adam would make sure she understood the difference.

Of course, he wasn’t always clear on the difference himself…especially since the focus of the Naughty Nuptials was sex, which likely explained why he reacted to this woman with a need testing his restraint.

And almost as if she wanted to prove the point, Tori reappeared, looking sultry in a beaded green gown that clung lazily to her curves. Spangles flashed with every step, and he inhaled another cleansing breath to shore up his defenses.

Even with her clothes on, this woman looked like sex.

“Will you give me a hand?” She turned and presented her back with its open zipper. Lifting her hair, she moved close enough to bombard him with her subtly spicy fragrance. “Do you mind?”

Yes.

Clearly this was another power play—one he wouldn’t let her win. Not when he came face-to-face with all that bare skin. Not when he knew she’d managed to get her zipper down without assistance in the first place. He wouldn’t let her see how that one touch made his every thought zero in on his fingertips.

Chemistry practically crackled between them. Every sense honed in on the texture of her skin. Every nerve kicked into hyperalert and only his skill at self-discipline saved him from a reaction that otherwise would have leveled him.

He dragged the zipper up, an action that felt like an intimacy they shouldn’t be sharing. But not according to Tori, who clearly enjoyed liquefying professional boundaries with her suggestive smiles and constant innuendo.

Adam knew better than to show this woman weakness. One slip and she’d move in for the kill. He didn’t care to test his ability to resist her under extreme conditions.

More extreme than these, anyway.

Tugging the zipper into place, he put a much-needed step between them and felt a lot more relief than he should have for a man who’d decided not to play her seduction game.

“Did you fasten the eye hook?” she asked, her voice a hushed whisper between them.

If Adam hadn’t been struggling so hard to rein back, he might have enjoyed knowing he wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of her little game.

He was working hard to keep his expression neutral when she peeked a sultry gaze from beneath the fall of wild hair.

“If you don’t fasten the eye hook, the zipper will creep down. I might wind up flashing everyone at the reception.”

Now there was another vision to haunt him. This beautiful woman swaying to the music on the dance floor. The heavily beaded gown slithering into a puddle at her feet. Those filmy undergarments and all that skin…and two hundred surprised guests enjoying the show.

As Adam wasn’t partial to exhibition fetishes—or any fetishes at all, for that matter—he reached for the eye hook.

The fastener proved a test for his supersize fingers. What should have been a fast fix became a series of awkward efforts that brought more skin against skin until his careful expression melted into a scowl.

Tori pulled her hair higher and leaned into the light to assist his efforts, but all she did was flood his senses with the scent of her hair and that underlying spicy fragrance.

She distracted him and, in the process, undermined his efforts to finish this task and make his getaway. By the time he forced the microscopic hook through the metal loop, his fingers had grown stiff with frustration.

“There you go.” Not even his usual rock-steady discipline could keep the triumph, and relief, from his voice.

If Adam expected Tori to gloat, he miscalculated her response. She leaped on her advantage by firing again.

Shaking her hair out, she tumbled cloudlike waves over her shoulders and sent another blast of enticing fragrance his way. “Thank you.”

He only nodded and stepped farther into the hallway, as much to clear his senses of her provocative scent as to prompt her to action. Right now, he needed two hundred reception guests to remind him he should be working. He made a mental note to avoid being alone with this woman again.

“What’s on the agenda this afternoon?” He steered the conversation where it belonged. “And more importantly, how can I facilitate your work?”

“Helping me dress was a big help.”

She issued that with such a straight face he felt the urge to smile. Pulling the suite door closed, Tori sidled close and slipped her arm through his.

“We’re going to have fun today, Adam. You have heard that word before, haven’t you?”

She gazed up into his face with those big blue eyes but never gave him a chance to reply. “We’re going to drink champagne and dance and watch other people drink champagne and dance. We’re going to toast your honorary couple, and, with any luck, I’ll catch the bouquet and you’ll catch the garter. Will you slide it up my leg with your teeth, if you do?”

“Work fits in where exactly? I was under the impression you had a scoop to find and daily deadlines to keep.”

“I do, but my job is to report on your grand opening functions. To do that, I have to interact with your guests. Didn’t you read my article in this morning’s paper?”

“I did. You reported on last night’s rehearsal dinner. You played up the excitement of the event and the romance of how our featured bridal couple became engaged while they built the Wedding Wing.” Directing her toward the elevator, he disentangled his arm to press the button, then clasped his hands behind his back to wait.

Tori frowned, assuring him that she hadn’t missed his getaway. “I also explained that today’s wedding would conclude the first week of your grand opening and officially start the second. Since I’ll have the feature in tomorrow’s paper, I left my readership hanging to find out what happens.”

“Is that why you mentioned our unexpected guests?” he asked, referring to her parents’ last-minute addition to the rehearsal dinner guest list.

“My parents weren’t the only gate-crashers. Your bedding consultant’s parents showed up, too, which meant I had area news of interest to report.” She must have seen something in his expression because she asked, “You don’t agree?”

“No, I don’t.”

She gave a slight shrug that made those red waves shimmer in the overhead light. “That might explain why you’re a hotel manager and not a reporter.”

He didn’t get a chance to respond before the elevator beeped and the door slid open. They entered beside another couple Adam recognized as wedding guests.

“Heading back to the wedding?” he asked.

The man nodded, and Adam inquired about their accommodations, dissuading Tori from continuing their discussion until they were alone again.

When the doors opened, the Wedding Wing lobby appeared before them. He held the door while the guests exited before joining Tori, who picked up right where they’d left off.

“You’re not from Niagara Falls. Trust me when I say your unexpected guests last night are news around here. People gobble up any mention of my family. Take a look at our society page someday. Every other paragraph has the name Prescott in it. It’s a side effect of being related to politicians. When my family and your bedding consultant’s family are together in the same room, it’s news. I was simply writing to my audience.”

She motioned to the life-size painting showcased in the lobby. “Your bedding consultant knows how to use the press to her advantage, too. That’s why she arranged the loan of the Falling Woman from Westfalls. To create spin. She told me so herself.”

Adam followed her gaze, unable to argue the point because his co-worker Laura Granger—the inn’s bedding consultant and the woman who’d conceptualized the Wedding Wing—had acquired the painting to stir up interest in the Naughty Nuptials.

This had been a noteworthy acquisition because the artist, a French woman named Mireille Marceaux, was apparently a local mystery. Adam glanced at the painting, a woman surrounded by a summer-green forest and mist from the falls.

“I still can’t believe she managed to get this painting on loan. Talk about using personal connections,” Tori said, referring to Laura’s status as friend to the headmistress of the exclusive preparatory school that owned the painting.

Adam nodded, but as he gazed at the painting he noticed something he hadn’t before. The redheaded semi-nude reminded him of the brash young reporter standing by his side. Something about the way the red hair, refined facial features and delicate curves came together struck him as similar.

Of course, this shouldn’t come as a surprise. The sight of Tori Ford in that skimpy robe still burned in his brain. Like the Falling Woman, she was the stuff fantasies were made of and he wasn’t likely to forget the sight any time soon.

“Laura’s acquisition of this painting was a promotional stunt, but I don’t believe it falls under the same heading as gossiping about our guests in print.”

“Gossiping? Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?”

He shook his head. “You’re capitalizing on a decades-old feud between your family and Laura’s, as well as your connection to the senator. That strikes me as sensationalism.”

“It’s Laura’s job to create public interest in her Wedding Wing. It’s my job to create public interest so my readers buy newspapers. People around here enjoy reading about our families, so where’s the difference?”

If Tori didn’t understand, Adam wasn’t about to debate the point. He would have thought Senator Prescott’s youngest granddaughter would have been more concerned about where she directed her media attention. Apparently not.

But while he was entitled to his opinion, Adam wouldn’t purposely antagonize the woman responsible for the reviews on the Naughty Nuptials. Upon learning the Niagara Falls Journal would be sending her estranged cousin to cover the events, Laura, his normally professional, if somewhat quirky co-worker, had told management about her troubled history with the senator’s family. These families were so estranged, in fact, that Laura had feared coverage would be biased as a result.

Falling Inn Bed, and Breakfast needed rave reviews, so Adam was doing his best to earn them. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been assigned to this job because he was the best fit, but because he was the only male on the executive management staff who could escort Tori Ford to couple events.

He intended to enforce what damage control he could and, at the very least, not make matters worse. But he hadn’t counted on Tori turning him into her pet project, either.

“We’d prefer the inn to attract interest on its own merit,” he said to segue through the stiff moment. “Surely you can understand that.”

While Tori might have understood, he could tell by the way she notched her chin that she didn’t agree. And he didn’t give her a chance to embroil him in another debate. Touching her elbow, he guided her toward the grand ballroom, where the Wallace/Marsh reception currently was taking place. She moved along by his side without further comment, and he greeted the ushers posted at the main entrance before escorting her inside.

Laura had indeed outdone herself with this event. The ballroom boasted a sweeping wall of doors that opened onto a forest. With the June sun streaming through, the wedding party and guests looked like a scene on a postcard in the inn’s novelty shop.

Adam had been on the property for over ten months now, yet sometimes the place still caught him by surprise with its unique combination of nineteenth-century grandeur and atmosphere.

And sex.

It was subtle, but everywhere. Glancing up at the ornate friezes separating lofty ceilings from gleaming white walls, he recognized the whimsical sculptures depicting couples with limbs entwined. Mouths and hips thrusting. Rubenesque women in varying degrees of nudity looking dreamy and sated as they pleasured their equally nude men.

Then again, perhaps the sex around here wasn’t always so subtle. Adam thought about the restaurant’s grand opening specialty menu with its bold header scrawled across the front—Inter Courses. And the inn’s promotional materials weren’t much better. The lineup of romance-themed suites in the main hotel boasted names like the Demimondaine’s Boudoir and the Wild West Brothel. The new Wedding Wing had followed tradition with honeymoon suites called the Egyptian Pleasure Pyramid and the Cast-away Honeymoon Isle.

His current charge had been installed in the Wedding Knight Suite, which reminded Adam of a sex dungeon with its Dark Ages furnishings and handy supply of bondage gadgets. Even the bed had a choose-your-pleasure theme, with specialty sheets like the Kama Sutra Sports Set and the Fetish Collection.

“Looks like the receiving line has finished and the bridal couple are gearing up for their first dance,” Adam said. “So where to first, Ms. Ford?”

Tori scanned the crowd, her gaze darting from her photographer, who snapped shots of the bridal couple, to the sidelines, where Laura stood applauding with the Wedding Wing architect. “To the bar. I can’t mingle without champagne.”

Together they skirted the edges of the crowd, and Adam greeted the elderly bartender. “Hello, Clyde. Ms. Ford would like a drink.”

Clyde had a head full of cottony hair and a quick smile that flashed against his wrinkled black skin. “What’s your pleasure today?” he asked Tori.

“I’m a champagne cocktail classicist. What can you do for me?”

“I can fix you up right. Just tell me whether you want to visit the Alps, the Mediterranean or head south to Cuba.”

Tori laughed, a bright sound that managed to spiral through him as if it were alive. A reminder of their chemistry that he didn’t need.

“I knew I liked you from the moment we met, Clyde,” she said. “I’m in the Mediterranean mood today. Just can’t resist those beaches. And please double my order, so I can share.”

Adam wasn’t sure what a champagne cocktail classicist was, but the look Tori shot his way told him he would soon find out.

Accepting a flute, she passed Adam a second, then accompanied him from the bar.

“Mediterranean?” he asked.

“Bubbly with a dash of pomegranate and orange liqueur.”

They wound their way to a spot in the crowd where they could view the proceedings before Tori tipped back her first sip. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she sighed appreciatively.

“I love that man. And I’ll give you one thing around here, Adam—you know how to pick staff. Clyde’s the perfect man for his job. And Laura…the bedding consultant.” She chuckled, and he wondered what she found so amusing. He didn’t ask.

“You’re the only one I haven’t been able to figure out yet, Adam. What do you bring to this place?”

He would have said sanity but as he hadn’t accomplished that ambitious goal yet, he said, “You’ve formulated your opinions of our staff quickly.”

“I work fast.”

No doubt there. “And you have a lock on everyone but me?”

“It’s been two days,” she said as if that explained it. Then she glanced back at the bar. “Take Clyde for example. He’s a retired businessman who took the job as your head bartender because his wife died.” She tipped her flute in salute. “I thought his devotion to your hotel might be to avoid being home alone. So I asked him. You know what he told me?”

“No idea.”

“That he came to Falling Inn Bed because the romance around here helps remind him of all the years he had with his Alice. Isn’t that sweet?”

Adam nodded, surprised. While he would expect a reporter of Tori’s caliber to dig up intimate details on a man’s life, he hadn’t expected her to be influenced by them. A thoughtful smile played around her mouth, and there was a softness to her voice he’d never heard before.

“Are you impressed?” she asked.

“I am. You learned more about Clyde in two days than I have in the past ten months.”

Not that it had ever occurred to him to ask personal questions. Clyde did a superb job running the house bar, and Adam hadn’t needed to know anything else about the man.

Tori flashed him a high-beam smile that told him his praise had pleased her. She tapped her flute against his in a tinkle of crystal. “Now drink up, Adam. Think of this as an adventure. You’ll always be able to say you tried one.”

He wasn’t sure who would care whether he’d tried a champagne cocktail, but he’d rather taste it than engage in another debate on the importance of adventuring in life. He sipped. He swallowed. He said, “Good.”

Her frown suggested she’d guessed he was humoring her, but he was spared from further debate when the emcee invited couples to join the bride and groom on the dance floor.

Taking a long drink of her champagne, Tori deposited the glass on the tray of a passing waiter. “Come on. Dancing is a divine way to loosen up and have a good time. It gets the blood flowing and the heart racing—a fun way to stay healthy.”

Adam wouldn’t mention that to make up for the personal life he’d left back on the West Coast, he’d nearly doubled his normal workout schedule. Staying healthy was not an issue when he was training with a martial arts master five days a week.

So he disposed his glass and led her onto the dance floor, reconciled. As her escort, his life for the next two weeks would be subject to her whim. After the way she’d greeted him in her suite a short time ago, he’d pick his battles.

As the band slid into a slow tune, Adam twined his fingers through hers and slipped his hand around her waist. Tori melted against him until he could feel the brush of her curves everywhere, and he found himself remembering the way she’d looked without her gown, all creamy curves and bold challenge. The effect was double-barreled, forcing him to call upon every ounce of his will to keep his body behaving appropriately.

She wanted a reaction. He wouldn’t give her one.

“What makes you so convinced there’s a scoop to be had around here, Ms. Ford?”

“Would the Worldwide Travel Association send a photojournalist with Tyler Tripp’s credentials to film a documentary if there wasn’t a story?”

“You are aware that Tyler has a connection to our inn.”

“I know, I know,” she said snuggling closer. “Once upon a time, he covered the inn for WTA’s annual contest. His coverage earned you the Most Romantic Getaway Award and a substantial promotional package. Tyler’s been very forthcoming. But he and I are looking for different things in our stories.”

“What’s so different, Ms. Ford?”

“He’s filming an industry documentary on your bedding consultant and the Naughty Nuptials. He’ll showcase what Falling Inn Bed does as a way of helping other hotels to find their niche market and capitalize on it. He’s already sold on this place—”

“But you’re not?”

“Oh, no, I’m sold. I live in town, remember? But I want more. I want to know how you serve romance to your guests and why it works. People are fascinated with this inn. I intend to answer all my readers’ questions, and to do that, I have to experience the magic firsthand.”

She glanced up at him, her expression suddenly serious. “You know, that gives me an idea….”

To Adam’s surprise, she stepped out of his arms. He let her go, appreciating a reprieve from all those taunting curves while she rummaged through her purse and pulled out a small electronic device. Bringing it to her lips, she depressed a button and said, “What about an FAQ section? Frequently asked questions for readers who are just tuning in. It’ll be the perfect way to keep readers up to speed while welcoming new readers. Three weeks is a long time to keep everyone’s attention.”

Adam watched, shielding her from the dancers while she stood unselfconsciously talking into her recorder.

She finally dropped the device back in her purse. “Sorry. I have to get my ideas down when they happen or I forget them.”

Nodding, he guided her back into his embrace again, only this time keeping her at arm’s length. “Now I have a question for you, Ms. Ford.”

“Shoot.”

“Why do you think you need to get personal?”

She peered up at him with a smile playing around her mouth, and he couldn’t help but drag his gaze over her face, taking in her delicate features one by one. Smooth skin. Deep blue eyes. Thickly fringed lashes that looked dusted in gold. She was an incredibly beautiful woman. Too beautiful for his peace of mind.

“I’ve got two reasons, Adam.”

“And they are?”

“I like you. You’ve got this wonderful old hotel with all these sexy suites and all you want to do is work, work, work. I happen to know that your boss ordered the management team to participate in the Naughty Nuptials and have fun. You’ve got a unique opportunity here, and I like you enough to help you make the most of it. When will you ever get another chance to be a part of a special event like this one?”

Never, if he got lucky. “I can safely say there won’t be another Naughty Nuptials campaign happening for some time.”

“My point exactly.” Tori flashed him a grin and melted bonelessly against him.

Suddenly responsible for holding her upright, Adam could feel her breasts press close and her stomach cradle what was about to become a raging erection.

He gritted his teeth.

She sighed.

“And the other reason?” he asked to distract himself.

“For the record, I don’t want to get personal so you’ll give me the hotel’s deep dark secrets. Contrary to what my managing editor believes, I happen to be a very competent reporter. As long as you let me behind the scenes, I’ll get those secrets myself.”

Tipping her head back, she met his gaze. “I want to get personal because I’m attracted to you. Very attracted. I want to experience the Falling Inn Bed magic and I can’t do that all by my lonesome. Admittedly, you’re not the type of man I usually date, but then there’s no accounting for chemistry.”

Truer words had never been spoken.

He wondered what type of man she usually dated and would not even entertain asking the question.

“So, Adam, there you have it. I think sex is a great way to relax and have fun. And I happen to have a suite filled with sexy goodies that we could experiment with together. But that means you’ll have to come inside and get naked.”

His chest constricted tighter with every word she spoke and he couldn’t decide whether the breathless quality in her voice or her boldness nailed him like a sucker punch.

Bottom line—it didn’t matter.

He was in for a long two weeks if he couldn’t come up with a way to deal with this woman and keep his clothes on.




2


TORI SLIPPED INTO the seat that the namesake of Bruno’s Place held for her. “I’m being seated to breakfast by a five-star chef. Is this VIP treatment for your local reporter or do you usually seat all your guests on Sunday mornings?”

“The VIP treatment, of course. If I played waiter too often, I’d have no time to cook, and that would be a crime,” the burly chef said with a grin. “You’re in my world now, Ms. Ford, and I take my press seriously.”

“Is that how you manage to keep in our food critic’s good graces? She’s known to be tough, yet you manage to stay on her top shelf week after week.”

“No mystery there. Your food critic is tough, but she’s good. She recognizes I’m that good.”

With a laugh, Tori accepted the napkin he handed her. She appreciated honesty, preferring to know where she stood with people, good, bad or otherwise. And Bruno, a chef who was that good, would shine when his turn for an interview rolled around—as long as he continued to shoot straight with her.

This morning, however, he was off the hook. She had a breakfast interview with the infamous bedding consultant, who, Tori glanced at her watch as she accepted a menu, would be tardy in a mere two minutes.

“I want you to read through my dishes and pick whatever your little heart desires,” he said. “If you want something special, I’ll whip it up.”

“Why, Bruno, you really are sucking up to me.” She couldn’t help but wish Adam Grant would be as accommodating. The thought of that hot man satisfying her every desire… Mm-mm.

“Of course I’m sucking up to you, Ms. Ford.” The burly man with the balding head gave a hearty laugh. “The way to my success is through your stomach.”

And he was off to a good start as he poured her a cup of much-needed coffee, explaining his specialties and otherwise entertaining her until the bedding consultant appeared at the hostess station with barely a minute to spare.

With her white-blond hair and blue eyes, Laura Granger wasn’t only beautiful, but striking in a runway-model sort of way. Tall and slim, both features leant her a gracefulness as she wound her way through the tables, greeting guests and staff.

Tori couldn’t help but remember how pea-green her older sister used to get about Laura while they’d been attending school at Westfalls Academy. While she’d been a few years behind them, she’d been privy to her sister’s feelings on visits home.

As an adult—and an adult who made her living observing people and looking for stories—the situation made more sense. People in this town tended to compare her sister, Miranda, with Laura because of the connection between their two families.

But meeting Laura up close and personal convinced Tori that although both women were the same age, they couldn’t have been more different if they’d tried.

Miranda was delicate and dark. Laura was taller and fair. Miranda had always been social and popular, Laura the shy outcast. Miranda excelled at whatever she did. Except for dance class at Westfalls, where Laura had stolen the spotlight.

Boy, could Laura Granger dance. Tori remembered how she’d get out on that big stage in Marshall Hall and wow the audience. Like Bruno in the kitchen, Laura had been that good. Tori wondered if she hadn’t turned professional because her family couldn’t afford to train her.

But Laura seemed to have found her niche at Falling Inn Bed. It wasn’t every day that a hotel wedding coordinator had the Worldwide Travel Association send a photojournalist like Tyler Tripp. Then again, Laura wasn’t an ordinary wedding consultant by any stretch; she was the one and only bedding consultant.

She marched to her own beat, while Miranda maintained the status quo at all costs. And Tori knew those costs were high.

She watched as Laura kissed Bruno’s cheek when he told her he’d send along a waiter with espresso. Then she slipped into the chair across the table and told him they’d need some time before ordering.

“That’ll work for you, Tori?” Laura asked.

“As long as the coffee keeps coming.”

“It won’t get a chance to cool,” Bruno promised before strolling away, looking remarkably like a bull in a china shop among the turn-of-the-last-century antique tables and glassware.

Tori sipped her coffee, curious to gauge Laura’s attitude to their first interview. They’d spoken since her arrival on the property, of course. Laura had even given her a tour of the new Wedding Wing. But today they were going to get personal and, with a family history like theirs, that was saying a bunch.

“Well, who’d have ever guessed that we’d be sitting together with only a few feet of table between us?” Tori said.

“Not in my wildest dreams.” Laura smiled, and up close, her looks were even more striking.

Okay, maybe Tori should have been more sympathetic to Miranda’s plight—she certainly wouldn’t want to be compared to Laura Granger and her incredible good looks.

“So you were worried I was going to be biased,” Tori said.

“Adam told you that?”

“I asked. I figured he’d have denied it if he could have.”

“At first, perhaps,” she admitted. “But you promised you wouldn’t trash the Naughty Nuptials because of our family history, so I took you at your word. I also told everyone to take exceptional care of you or we wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Tori thought of Bruno and smiled. “So I heard. Why don’t you mention it to Adam.”

Laura arched an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

“Not really. He’s very…professional.” Too professional. “So what did you tell him about me?”

She needed to know everything she could to help this man have a little fun.

“Nothing more than the overview of our family history that I shared with all my co-workers. When I found out you were taking over our press. I didn’t want them to be sandbagged either way.”

“How is it they never heard about the rift between our families? I thought we were legend around Niagara Falls.”

Laura smiled then greeted the approaching waiter. Accepting the steaming mug, she sipped appreciatively. “None of them come from around here. Think of the inn’s management staff like a traveling circus troupe. My boss picked them up at the different properties she’s managed throughout her career. Our maintenance supervisor has been with her for over twenty years at five different properties.”

“That sort of loyalty is unusual, and impressive.”

“Ms. J is an impressive woman.”

“Okay, so official interview time.” Reaching into her bag and grabbing her voice-activated recorder, Tori plunked it on the table and got to business. “For the record, what makes this hotel so special?”

“Falling Inn Bed is a place where couples can focus on romance. We’re not a singles-type of resort, where men go to meet women or vice versa. We’re a place that helps our couples focus on what’s important—making the most of being in love.”

“That’s spin.”

“It’s true.”

Impressed that Laura didn’t hesitate to measure her words, Tori decided that the media-handling skills so rampant on her mother’s side of the family weren’t necessarily a side effect of living with politicians.

“Since none of this is in your promotional brochure, I’ll take you at your word. You have a very romantic view of what you do around here.”

Laura laughed. “I’ve been accused of being a romantic idealist.”

“Really?” Romantic idealism had to come from somewhere and discovering where might be an important key to understanding the whole picture of the bedding consultant. “I imagine romantic idealism serves you very well on this job.”

“Especially with the Wedding Wing. I create fantasies for my newlyweds. Each one’s as individual as the couple itself.”

“I’ve heard about some of the fantasies you create. What I caught of your Wild, Wild Weddings campaign last week was impressive. The Sex Toy Shower. The Bad Bachelor/ette Parties. The Racy Rehearsal Dinner. Neat stuff. I’m sure your honorary bridal couple was impressed with the fantasy you created for them. Speaking of, what honeymoon suite did they spend their wedding night in?”

“The Shangri-la Paradise.”

“Sounds romantic. I lucked out with the Wedding Knight Suite. All those bondage goodies to play with.” The potential for fun was endless. If she could get Adam to play.

Laura smiled, looking quite pleased. “The Wedding Wing has a suite for every fantasy.”

“So who came up with these ideas?”

“I did. My parents helped me conceptualize them, though, and you’ve met our architect, Dale Emerson. He and his company made everything a reality.”

“Dale Emerson, your date.”

She nodded and Tori noted a hint of color rise in her cheeks. “Yes, he’s that, too.”

“He’s a lot more, from what I hear. I’ve got connections downtown, and I heard his firm pulled applications from the licensing department. Is he opening offices in town?”

Laura reached forward and turned the recorder off. She looked so serious that Tori’s reporter’s instincts went wild.

“If you want to discuss Dale,” she said, “it’ll have to be off the record. And I would like to know why you’re interested in my personal life. You’re covering the grand opening.”

“But my slant is you, and what you’re doing here. Tyler can go mainstream with his documentary, but I need to appeal to my readers. There’s a local angle here that’ll launch my story into the major leagues. I won’t pass it up.”

“Our family history.”

“The Fords and the Grangers together for the first time since Westfalls. Not to mention a romance resort in town that our conservative grandfather has been curiously silent about.”

“He’s not our grandfather. He might technically be my mother’s father, but I’ve never met the man. As far as your grandfather’s concerned, I don’t exist.”

Tori considered that for a moment to decide on her line of questioning. The history between their families was as much a draw around here as erotic artist Mireille Marceaux was a mystery. Their family connection was another card in her hand that she could play to make her coverage something special, and since she intended to capitalize on this local angle, it wouldn’t hurt to get Laura’s read on the whole deal.

“I don’t think that’s entirely true,” she said. “Our grandfather has acknowledged you.”

“How?”

“By his silence.”

Laura narrowed her crystal blue gaze. “The senator hasn’t been silent. He made a statement a long time ago.”

Tori shook her head. “The senator talked around you. He spouted stuff about supporting values of traditional couples and businesses that bring tourist dollars into our local economy. But that’s not endorsing a romance resort. He didn’t criticize it, either, and people noticed. I’m the municipal reporter in this town. I hear the gossip on my beat.”

“The senator didn’t attend Miranda’s wedding,” Laura pointed out. “I assumed that meant he didn’t want people to mistakenly think he was in contact with a Granger.”

“Grandfather didn’t attend Miranda’s wedding because the Senate got called into special session. He’d planned to come.”

Laura set her cup on the table and sat back in her chair, looking disbelieving. “Are you saying you think my involvement here might have something to do with him not taking a stand against the inn?”

“I think it’s possible. Think about it, Laura. You might be spinning sex from the romance angle, but you’re still spinning sex. There’s a reason he’s handling this inn the way he is, and I think you’re it.”

Tori didn’t give her a chance to think about the implications of that statement. She’d planted the seed and that was enough for now. Hopefully, the seed would take root, and Laura would want to talk some more about their family history. Until then, though, Tori had an opportunity to steer the conversation in another direction.

“So tell me, if your date is pulling permits to open an office in town, do I assume that means Falling Inn Bed has worked its magic on you and Dale Emerson?”

Laura’s careful expression melted away, and she got a soft look in her eyes. “Dale says the magic’s contagious, and no one who walks through our doors is exempt. Not our featured bridal couple. Not even the bedding consultant or the man who built the Wedding Wing.”

“Contagious, hm? Now that’s a theory I haven’t heard about.”

But it was one that had promise. Tori could use all the help she could get in her quest to get Adam to enjoy the grand opening celebration. And when Laura waxed poetic about marriage proposals on construction sites and falling in love with her handsome architect, Tori thought she might just stand a chance at helping the hunky assistant GM catch some magic.



ADAM HADN’T STOPPED running since he’d opened his eyes this morning, though Laura had left Sunday a free day in their Naughty Nuptials schedule to give their newlyweds a chance to rest after the excitement of the wedding day. Guests had been checking out all morning, while the inn staff had been regrouping for the week of Risqué Receptions events ahead.

Adam had been looking forward to working out and a break from Tori Ford, but instead had found himself cleverly roped into giving her a tour of the hotel when he caught up with her midmorning at Bruno’s place.

In the time since he’d last seen her, Adam had mentally reviewed all the reasons why he didn’t want to involve himself with a woman who believed in fun for fun’s sake, no matter how much his body urged him otherwise. He believed this little exercise had done the trick.

That was, of course, until he’d set eyes on her in a sundress that left her shoulders bare and too much cleavage swelling above the bodice. With red waves bouncing down her back as she moved past the hostess station, Adam had to admit that discipline wasn’t holding up in the face of the woman herself. Not when she caught sight of him, and her expression lit up. His pulse took a huge leap in tempo.

Steeling his spine, he forced a smile and asked, “How did your interview with Laura go?”

Slipping her arm through his, she moved close enough to accelerate his pulse a few more beats. “Great, thanks, but I’m stuffed. Remind me to stay out of this restaurant, or your chef will do some serious damage. I don’t want to have to go shopping for bigger sized clothes.”

Adam raked his gaze over her slim curves before he could stop himself and gave a short laugh. Nothing but perfection there. “Never fear, Ms. Ford. The spa’s cardiovascular schedule runs seven days a week.”

“Great minds and all that, Adam.” She tipped her head back to smile up at him and heaved a giant sigh that did amazing things to that swell of cleavage. “I’ll bet we could burn off lots of calories together.”

“Shall we go on a tour? Laura told me she took you through the Wedding Wing, but you haven’t seen the main hotel yet. I’ll be happy to show you.”

She pursed her lips in an exasperated moue, and he was pleased to sidestep at least one indecent proposal today.

“Thank you,” she said.

He directed her out onto the promenade. “I’m actually surprised Laura didn’t tour you around the whole property when you first arrived.”

“Oh, she offered, but I only let her show me the Wedding Wing. That’s her cupcake, after all.” Tori’s big blue eyes sparkled. “But I’m dying to see the original hotel, though. My sister and her husband stayed in the Roman Bagnio on their wedding night and to hear Troy tell it, he’d have enjoyed spending a few more nights there before flying off to Hawaii for their honeymoon. Think you can arrange to tour me through any of the inn’s original suites?”

Sure he could, but did he really want to be alone with her in suites with names like the Victorian Bordello, Sultan’s Seraglio and Demimondaine’s Boudoir?

No, yet he couldn’t help but be impressed at how neatly she twisted the situation around to corner him. Strategy he could respect, even when it meant postponing his workout even longer.

The woman was clever, he’d definitely give her that.

“I haven’t reviewed the audit reports yet, Ms. Ford, but we ran close to full occupancy last night. Seeing a suite might not be possible.”

“Today’s Sunday, and checkout was at noon. Surely some guests will have left by now. Can’t you slip me in for a peek?”

“Housekeeping’s scheduled after checkout.”

With her arm still locked through his, she tugged him around so they were headed back in the direction of the front desk. “Just check, please. For me.”

No wheedling, yet even so, Adam marveled at the way she managed to turn everything back around to what she wanted.

To be alone with him.

“I’ll check.” If only for a moment to put some distance between them and regain control of his pulse.

A trip behind the front desk almost did the trick until he found two suites recently vacated—the Red Light District and the Wild West Brothel. He considered claiming that none were available, but Adam wouldn’t lie—not even to spare himself a visit with this woman to the Red Light District, complete with spotlight, stage and chair suitable for a sexy lap dance.

“We’ll tour the Wild West Brothel.”

With any luck, the historically themed furnishings would distract this woman from the overt sexuality of the suite.

Then again, Adam wouldn’t get his hopes up. Not when Tori beamed at him across the counter and said, “Ride ’em, cowboy,” then led him up to the fifth floor herself.

“You’re familiar with the layout of the inn, I see,” he said dryly when she brought him right to the door with the appropriate shiny gold nameplate.

She gave a casual shrug that drew his gaze yet again to the red waves spilling over her shoulders and the delicate curve of her throat. “Wouldn’t be much of a reporter if I couldn’t find my way around without help.”

“No argument there.” He’d never met a more determined woman and he still had the memory of her in that see-through robe burned in his brain to prove it. Withdrawing his master keycard, he inserted it into the mechanism, unlocked the door and stepped inside to hold the door for his curious reporter.

Tori smiled up at him as she walked past and said, “Was that a compliment or a criticism, Adam?”

“A compliment, of course.” He injected some sincerity into his voice as the door shut with an absurd note of finality.

“Wouldn’t do to criticize the reporter responsible for your reviews, hm?”

He didn’t get a chance to reply before she came to an abrupt stop in the foyer and laughed. “Oh, my. Look at this place. This is as incredible as the Wedding Knight Suite. Not as elaborate, but, still, very impressive.”

Stepping inside this suite always made Adam feel as if he were walking onto the set of a John Wayne western. A bar served as the dining area and a long mirror mounted with steer horns graced the wall above. Walls paneled in rustic wood bore vintage posters of lustful couples for a welcoming bunkhouse look.

All the furniture had been scaled in size for two, and the leather sex swing hanging from the ceiling was the focal point of the room. Adam knew the bedroom was set up with a wax warmer and specialty sheet set, so guests could engage in sexy branding.

Tori’s observation skills were clearly on because there were indeed differences between this romance-themed suite, which had been fashioned to accommodate the original hotel structure, and those designed for the new Wedding Wing. Building from the ground up had given Laura and Dale the chance to create suites on a grand scale.

Creating fantasies, he’d heard Laura call it.

Which made Adam wonder—not for the first time—why he’d been so completely unprepared for the way sex affected the management around here. He’d researched Falling Inn Bed thoroughly before interviewing for the position. He’d seen all the press and had even toured the property. Yet he’d still not fully understood that the inn’s sexy theme would change the requirements and attitudes for upper management.

In his mind, all properties had qualities targeting specific clienteles, but just because a hotel catered to an island vacation crowd didn’t mean management worked in beachwear.

Maybe he’d just been too eager for a chance to become a stockholder in the Falling Inn Corporation. Or maybe he’d been so intent on leaving Seattle after his broken engagement that he hadn’t paid close enough attention to what was really taking place at this inn.

And as he watched the sex-crazed reporter inspect the romance-themed suite, Adam couldn’t help but think that his oversight in assessing the management—whatever the reason—was directly responsible for Tori Ford becoming the top item on his agenda.

“Did Laura design these suites, too?” she asked.

“Not to my knowledge. If memory serves, she came on the scene after Ms. J and her staff had acquired the property. Laura did tell me these suites inspired the ones in the Wedding Wing.”

“Even bigger and better fantasies. Mm-mm.” She took off into the bedroom, where he knew she’d find a bed with the Rope ’Em and Ride ’Em specialty sheets—complete with custom pockets filled with sex toys—and the bathroom that boasted a garden spa for couples.

Leaning against the bar, Adam passed on this part of the tour. No doubt Tori would use their close proximity to a bed to get a reaction from him, and he’d rather not give her another opportunity to play her game.

She didn’t need his help. She was getting enough of a reaction by doing nothing more than crossing the room to peer out the windows that overlooked the forested park leading to the Falls. The noon sun threw her into sharp relief, and Adam imagined he could see the faint outline of her body through her sundress. The memory of all those luscious curves from yesterday’s performance still burned too hot in his brain.

And then she scooted into the swing. The supple leather seat molded her shapely bottom as she started up another show…this time, one that prompted thoughts of what she’d feel like with her legs wrapped around him, weightless…

She pushed off, and her long bare legs stretched out as she rode backward in a smooth glide. Her body arced with the motion, her hair spilling out behind her, treating Adam to an image of what she might look like spread out horizontally for that calorie-burning exercise she’d mentioned earlier.

One of her sandals slipped off, clattering onto the wooden floor and drawing his gaze to the neatly manicured toes in some shade of ultrafeminine pink. She laughed, a carefree sound that contrasted sharply with the tension coiling tight inside him as his blood rushed hard in a direction in which it shouldn’t be rushing.

“This is a wonderful suite. Sex swings and those sheets.” She gave a low whistle. “I thought the set in my suite was wild. Have you ever played with restraints and warm wax, Adam?”

“No, Ms. Ford. I haven’t.”

She leaned back for another glide, this time arching her breasts high as the swing carried her backward. “Neither have I. Sounds like it might be fun.” The innuendo was in there and being the bold woman she was, Tori glanced at him with a smile just to make sure he was watching.

Adam was watching, all right. And reacting.

He’d have to be dead not to react to this woman, and he was very alive, as was his libido, which he’d obviously ignored for way too long.

She must have recognized his struggle because she slipped out of the swing, collected her sandal and headed his way, all sultry smiles and sexy purpose.

Adam stood his ground, refusing any show of weakness, not even a simple step backward when she sauntered right up to him and took over his personal space.

Sliding her fingers around his tie, she loosened the knot with a few easy motions and said, “Don’t you ever want to take a deep breath, Adam?”

“I can breathe just fine, Ms. Ford.”

Lifting that midnight gaze, she searched his expression, a slight frown creasing her brow at what she found there. “Let me tell you a secret. My family comes with a lot of baggage. Not only our history with Laura’s family, but a lot of visibility because my father and grandfather are politicians. It was all too easy to be sucked into trying to behave the way everyone expected me to behave.”

“What are you saying, Ms. Ford?”

“That I was like you once, Adam.” A soft smile touched her lips. “Surprise, surprise. I was all wrapped up in things that were keeping me from enjoying what was important in life.”

This was insight he hadn’t expected about her, and Adam wondered what had happened to make her turn that corner in her life. To transform from a woman of perfect decorum like her sister to this carefree spirit who only seemed focused on fun.

“You don’t know me, Ms. Ford. It’s presumptuous for you to think you know what I should find important in life.”

“That’s true. I don’t know you. But I know what I see. You’ve got a celebration happening in a hotel filled with sexy suites and a woman you share some serious chemistry with. Yet you shut yourself off to the possibilities the instant you realized you were attracted to me.”

To Adam’s profound annoyance, he couldn’t deny her claim, which left him to accept the hard reality. This woman had gotten under his skin no matter how much he had willed it otherwise.




3


AFTER THEIR BREAKFAST interview earlier, Laura Granger was about the last person Tori expected to see again when she appeared in the doorway of Falling Inn Bed’s records room, dressed casually in jeans and sandals, with her long blond hair bound stylishly in a braid.

“Got a minute?” she asked, sounding tentative. “Adam told me he left you in here.”

No doubt. After their tour of the main hotel, he’d brought her to this archive room and abandoned her here without a backward glance. She couldn’t blame the guy, really. She’d obviously hit close to the bone, and there was a little part of her that felt downright guilty for pushing him so hard. Adam was right—she didn’t know him. And she had no real idea why he was so determined to ignore their killer chemistry and all the unique possibilities of the Naughty Nuptials celebration.

Pushing herself up from the floor where she’d been searching through a filing cabinet that contained decades’ worth of press releases from all the inn’s various incarnations, she said, “Sure. I’m due a good stretch. What’s up?”

Laura didn’t answer, and Tori clasped her hands behind her back, stretching to ease muscles tight from crouching over that cabinet for too long.

She waited, wondering why Laura seemed nervous.

“Finding everything you need in here?” Laura asked.

Tori didn’t think that was why she came, but nodded. “Since they sprang this assignment on me only a few days ago, I haven’t had time to do my usual preliminary research on the inn’s history.”

“The history’s important?”

“Helps me add color to my articles. Just another way to interest my readers.” Cocking her hip against the table, she folded her arms across her chest. “So, are you here to interrogate me on my journalistic technique?”

Laura shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about our talk this morning and I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Did your mother ever tell you what started all the trouble between our families?”

Tori stifled a grin. She’d wanted to talk about what had led their grandfather to disown his eldest daughter and start a family rift, but she hadn’t expected Laura to take the bait so quickly. “Not really. As the official nosy one in my family, I’ve tried picking her brain, but she just doesn’t like to talk about what happened.”

And she wasn’t the only one. To Tori’s knowledge her grandfather had never uttered one syllable about his eldest daughter, either, so the only thing she’d ever heard came by way of her sister, mostly gossip about how Laura’s mother had run off with a hippie to live in a commune.

“How about you?” she asked. “What has your mother said?”

Laura perused a framed newspaper article on the wall, an early twentieth-century announcement from Tori’s own paper about an upcoming slate of Christmas festivities. “Not much. She wanted to be an artist and open an artist retreat with my dad. The senator didn’t approve and gave her a choice—my dad and her art, or her family.”

“And she made her choice.”

“She did.”

“Two points for your mother for following her dreams.” Tori could understand the need to break free. It seemed to be sort of a knee-jerk thing in her family. With the kind of pressure on everyone around the senator, one either complied or rebelled. While she’d been accused of a lot of things in her life, total compliance had never been one of them.

“So is she happy with her choice?” Tori asked.

“My mom and dad are the happiest couple I know.”

“Which explains where your romantic streak comes from?”

Laura glanced over her shoulder. “I suppose. But following her dreams didn’t come without a price.”

There was subtext in that statement. Given what Tori remembered of their Westfalls years and how the Granger family had been ostracized by most of the town, she guessed that price had trickled down to Laura. “Your mom gets credit in my book. It must have taken guts to turn her back on everything.”

Tori hadn’t even managed to break away for college.

“My mom’s got guts in spades, Tori. No doubt there.”

“She must have, to give up her place in society.”

“I don’t think society was ever an issue. She’s your typical artist, indifferent to social standing and all that. I think giving up her family was an issue, though.”

“Really?” This was news. Tori always had the impression that everyone was content with the distance between the two families. At least, that was the way things seemed in the family mansion.

Laura turned back around and met Tori’s gaze evenly. “Something she said once has always stuck with me, and after talking with you this morning, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“What’d she say?”

“That sometimes when someone dies, the people left behind are so hurt it’s easier to drift apart rather than face the pain of their loss.”

“Was she talking about our grandmother?”

Laura nodded.

“She died in that car accident when my mother was only six. I don’t think she remembers much about her.”

In fact, the only things Tori had ever heard about their grandmother had painted a picture of the perfect political wife and devoted parent whose tragic death had hit her family hard.

“What makes you think your mother had an issue with giving up her family?” Tori asked, curious.

“I was hoping you’d let me show you something.”

“Laura, I’m here to cover the bedding consultant and her Naughty Nuptials. Remember?”

“Then let’s go for broke.” Laura reached for the radio affixed to her belt. “Come in, picture taker.”

A few moments passed with the crackle of static between them before a male voice shot back, “Got a copy, bedding consultant. Go ahead.”

“I need a ten-four.”

“I’m soaking up the rays at your pool, babe.”

Tori recognized Tyler Tripp’s voice and listened to Laura sweet-talk him into leaving the pool to meet them in his room.

“Just wait,” she said to Tori. “I promise what I have to show you will be worth the trip.”

They caught up with Tyler on the third floor. He indeed had come straight from the pool, with his surfer shorts and wet hair. Laura gave him a big hug and said, “I so appreciate this. I know I promised you a whole day off.”

He flashed them a tolerant smile, his gaze raking lazily over Tori. “No rest for the wicked, babe. That’s the nature of the game. Tori knows.”

“Indeed.” She raked an equally lazy gaze over Tyler.

Now here was a man who knew how to enjoy his life. Tanned. Buff. Gorgeous long hair she could wrap herself in. He was enjoying himself out at the pool on a sunny Sunday rather than holing up inside to work. His dark gaze spelled trouble, and the silver studs adorning his eyebrow and ears made her wonder if he had piercings in places she couldn’t see without a research expedition into his surfer shorts.

His artistic mind had earned him the respect of the journalism community, and if he’d ever shown up on the doorstep of the family mansion, Rutger, her grandfather’s butler, would have slammed shut the door and called security.

He was exactly the type of man Tori normally found herself attracted to—even better, because of their common interest in journalism—only this man didn’t ignite even the teensiest spark.

No, everything she might have felt for this absolutely scrumptious man, she felt for the totally uptight and unsuitable assistant GM who wanted nothing to do with her.

Damn that chemistry, anyway. Maybe she should lay off Adam and reconcile herself to observing the magic instead of living it and writing a factual account of the Naughty Nuptials. Why should she care if the man chose to shrivel up inside that gorgeous body of his and ignore everything around him?

“Tyler’s been pulling together his footage of the grand opening events,” Laura said. “I want him to show you something we came across the other night.”

Tori followed her into a spacious suite that cornered the building on the third floor, a guest room comfortably furnished with living, dining and small kitchen areas sans the romance-themed grandeur of her own Wedding Knight Suite. Which just went to show that Laura had been serious about making her staff take good care of their local reporter. On the journalism food chain, Tori Ford was plankton compared to Tyler Tripp.

“So how’s it going?” she asked him.

“It’s going. I made a deal with myself to come back here every night and not sleep until I’ve transferred the day’s footage. So far I’m on top of it.”

“Good for you. My editor extended my daily deadline, but I’m still scrambling to write my article and post it on time.”

“Nice spread today.” Tyler moved into the office area that had been set up as a mini production studio, and Tori smiled. Considering the source, his words were high praise indeed. Now if she could just convince her managing editor…

“It won’t be too difficult to find, will it?” Laura asked.

Tyler slung a pool towel over the back of a recliner. “No problem. We’ll view it on my computer.”

He booted his system, and the staccato beeps and blips ensued while they waited. When the monitor screen went live, Tyler sat down, opening programs and flipping through windows.

He forwarded through footage of what Tori recognized as the Racy Rehearsal Dinner event that had taken place on the night before the wedding, and when Laura cued him, he began clicking the pImages** forward frame by frame. “Here you go.”

Tori glanced at a table and recognized the people seated there. Her family. Her parents. Her sister and brother-in-law.

As the featured couple for the upcoming Hottest Honeymoon week, Miranda and Troy had been participating in all the festivities. When Laura’s mother had been invited to the rehearsal dinner for a look at the Mireille Marceaux painting she’d helped arrange the loan of, Miranda had insisted her parents be invited as a show of force against the Grangers.

As a result, there’d been Fords and Grangers together in the same room for the first time in years. Tori had been able to slant this society bit for her feature. Successfully, too, as she’d been pleased to learn from her managing editor, even if Adam Grant had called her tactics sensationalism.

Damn man. Maybe he really was a hopeless case and she should just give up.

Tori scowled at the monitor, watching as the camera zoomed in on her mother, looking as beautiful as always. But the look on her face was one Tori hadn’t seen before, an unguarded look that would have been fleeting without Tyler to play it out frame by frame. That look arced through a lot of emotions…all painful, all captured on film in aching clarity.

Then the angle of the camera shifted and panned in on Laura’s mother.

Occasionally during her school years at Westfalls, Tori had seen Suzanne Granger in the business offices where the woman had worked as chief financial officer. Her wavy brown hair might be different than her own mother’s red, but the similarities between the sisters were striking. Not only their features, but their expressions.

Tori didn’t have to ask to know that these long-alienated sisters had been looking at each other across that crowded ballroom when this footage had been filmed.

“Why are you showing me this?” she asked.

“Because of what you said at breakfast. I think you’re right. What happened between our moms isn’t cut-and-dried.”

Tyler slid his chair back. “If you don’t need me anymore, ladies, I’ll head back to the pool. Clyde promised to ply me with some serious alcohol so I don’t notice the heat.”

“Have him whip you up a Rum Demon. You’ll forget your name.” Laura tugged his ponytail. “Go have fun. I’ll lock up.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. This man understood the importance of fun and, grabbing his towel, he took off, leaving Tori and Laura alone.

Dropping onto the arm of a recliner, Tori stared at the monitor where Suzanne Granger’s hauntingly familiar face stared back. “Okay, Laura. I agree things aren’t cut-and-dried between our mothers.”

“I want to find out what happened and see if we can fix things. Doesn’t seeing them like this make you sad?”

Sad was only part of it. Frustrated that her mother ran herself ragged being the perfect society woman was the other part. “It makes me wonder.”

“About what happened to break them up?”

“About your sanity. We already know what broke up this family. Your mother ran off to a commune with an artist.”

Laura shook her head. “That’s what happened between my mom and the senator. Not what happened between our moms.”

Tori thought about that for a moment and knew Laura was right. Their grandfather had disowned his eldest daughter, but that didn’t explain why her mother hadn’t made peace with her sister in the thirty years since. Then again, Tori knew her mother wasn’t much for going against the senator.

Another side effect of trying to lead the perfect life.

“Are you looking for some big family reunion?” she asked. “If you are, you obviously don’t know much about my family.” They didn’t have reunions, not even with family members they haven’t been disowned.

“If a reunion’s possible, why not?”

“Man, you really do deal in fantasy around here.”

“Falling Inn Bed specializes in love, Tori. Why does that have to be only the romantic kind? You said it yourself—we’ve got the Grangers and the Prescotts together for the first time since Westfalls. I’d hate to miss an opportunity to fix things.” She gave a wry smile. “For our moms. Personally, I’m content to live my life without you or your sister.”

She couldn’t help but smile. Had their circumstances been different growing up, she might have liked Laura Granger. As it was, she could only wonder if the time had come to bridge that distance, and if she would be the right person for the job.

She returned to Suzanne Granger’s face staring at her from the monitor, a striking reminder of the way the past influenced the future, and proof that people could live the lives they dreamed of.

But not without a price.

There was always a catch, but when Tori thought of the expression on her own mother’s face, she knew her mother had paid no less a price to remain home and live up to the family standards.

Tori had paid that price once, too, and had decided it was too high. Only unlike her estranged aunt, she hadn’t been disowned.

Yet.

“How do you expect to do this, Laura?” she asked. “Our mothers haven’t made an effort to do anything about this situation for thirty years, so don’t give me any sappy crap about it being easy to reunite sisters who miss each other. Unlike you, I wasn’t kidnapped from the fold and raised by wolves. I’m a Prescott-Ford, and we don’t deal in fantasies. Just cold, hard facts.”

“I’ve got a few ideas.” Laura folded her arms across her chest and eyed her with a twinkling gaze. “But since I only know half the story, I need someone from the other team to help me fill in the blanks and pull this all together.”

Was it worth a shot? Should she go out on a limb to try and wipe that expression from her mother’s face, or should she give up on her family the way she was about to give up on Adam Grant.

Tori gazed at this cousin she’d never known, a woman who was proving to be nothing at all like expected, and she realized that Laura was right about something else, too.

Tori only had one half of the story.

Not only about her family, but about Adam, too. Maybe he wasn’t so hopeless after all….

“Okay, bedding consultant. I’ll join your team. If you agree to join mine.”

Laura eyed her curiously. “What do you have in mind?”

Tori inhaled a deep breath and went for it. “I could use a little help catching a man.”



BETWEEN A HARD workout and a long visit to the Turkish steam room, Adam’s attempt to exorcise visions of Tori Ford in a sex swing had consumed most of his Sunday afternoon off. He arrived at his massage appointment sore and in need of relief.

“Sandra’s running behind,” the spa host told him. “Just go in and make yourself comfortable. She won’t be long.”

With a nod, Adam stepped inside a private room, where the sound of ocean surf piped in through overhead speakers and the tranquil lighting combined to lull his drowsy senses. He’d sat in the Turkish steam room so long he could practically feel eucalyptus seeping from his pores, but the visit did exactly what he’d hoped—slowed his racing thoughts about the woman in hot pursuit.

He’d been racking his brain to come up with a new game plan for dealing with Tori Ford. Simply stating his disinterest should have been enough. And for any rational woman, a polite rejection would have been.

Rationality didn’t seem to be part of Tori’s equation. Today, she’d revealed herself to be a woman on a mission, and he couldn’t stop wondering what had happened to commit her so firmly to her cause. Under normal circumstances, savoring life would have been an admirable goal, but these weren’t normal circumstances. They were together during a function that celebrated sex, and Tori was no ordinary woman.

And when Adam got down to it, he really didn’t want to know. She had him totally preoccupied as it was, dodging her moves by day and being too edgy to sleep by night.

He wanted to stop thinking about her.

His long workout this afternoon should have cleared his head. Long workouts and frequent massages were about the only indulgences he’d allowed himself since coming to Falling Inn Bed, and Breakfast. With friends and acquaintances back on the West Coast, Adam hadn’t done much but work since his arrival in Niagara Falls. The focus had suited his mood. Or at least it had until now.

To his relief, though, as soon as he lay down and pulled a towel over him, the effect of his recent sleepless nights began to take effect. Drowsiness edged out visions of the attractive redhead he didn’t want to think about.

He must have dozed because he had no idea how much time had passed before Sandra’s voice intruded.

“I’m so sorry I took so long. Just go back to sleep. We’re fine on time.” Her fingers, slick and warm with oil, sank into the tight muscles of his neck and shoulders.

He grunted, too sleepy to open his eyes, and Sandra must have recognized his pitiful condition because she took mercy on him. Instead of her usual deep muscle massage, she worked him over with a gentle kneading that let sleep crowd his brain.

He dropped off again to the steady glide of her hands on his skin. Long pleasant moments of unconsciousness when he was aware of nothing but her strokes easing the tension from along his spine, his lower back, his butt, his thighs. Yet pImages** of red waves spilling over creamy curves lingered in his mind, creeping in when his guard went down.

This drugged half sleep presented the perfect opportunity for Tori Ford to accomplish her objective—forcing him to give in to their potent chemistry. He was aware of her in a way he’d never been aware of any woman before. Not even his ex-fiancée. Tori had a power over him that he didn’t understand as he lay here with visions of her heightening his senses, memories of her flashing gaze and quick smiles.

He found a much-needed distraction when Sandra paused to pour more oil. She warmed it in her palms before pulling her hands down his thighs in long strokes. Her light touch affected him in a way her more aggressive massages never did, and thoughts of another woman’s hands lingered in his drowsy imagination. Forbidden thoughts about how her hands would feel on him. And all he had to do was stop resisting to find out if the reality would come close to the fantasy.

Adam guessed it would, which is why that stubborn voice reminded him to resist. Giving into that bold redhead would be playing with fire. Tori Ford was far from the solid, focused type of woman who respected what it took to successfully mix business with pleasure. And that was the kind of woman he wanted in his life, one with common goals and interests, not some fly-by-night wild child who wanted fun to be the be-all and end-all of her existence.

His ex-fiancée had already shown him that even a woman who seemed perfect might not be. Adam would be a lot more cautious the next time around.

And what was going on with his feet? He couldn’t ever remember Sandra paying such careful attention to that part of his body before. Not that he was complaining. Not when she rolled his foot in slow circles, massaged his insteps and worked each toe for so long that warmth radiated up his leg….

Adam must have dozed again because when he awoke, she’d returned to his thighs, and damned if she hadn’t awakened another part of his body, too. Those steady strokes rerouted his blood flow to a region that had no business waking up right now.

With a mild sense of disbelief, he willed away the sensation. He’d locked onto Sandra’s services not long after his arrival in town and had been directly responsible for getting her the position as head massage therapist in the Wedding Wing’s new spa. Not once in all the months she’d been providing her services had Adam ever become aroused.

But there it was, a familiar—and unwelcome—feeling rushing to his crotch, a precursor to an erection. Good thing he was lying on his stomach or he’d have been royally embarrassed.

This was Tori Ford’s fault. If not for her relentless pursuit, he wouldn’t have had sex on the brain when his defenses were down. And he didn’t stand a chance of containing his arousal when slick fingers dipped between his thighs, a light touch that somehow teased and tempted.

It had been way too long since he’d had sex.

Exhaling heavily, he gave in to the inevitable and forced open his eyes. “Let’s cut this short today, Sandra.”

When she didn’t reply or even slow down, Adam got his first clue that something wasn’t right.

“Sandra?”

Still no reply, just that constant kneading into places more intimate than she’d ever gone before. And that was when he realized something else his drugged brain hadn’t caught before.

Her hands were smaller, which explained the lightweight massage.

For someone who’d been lulled into a near coma, Adam’s reflexes were dead-on when he twisted around to grab a slender wrist…and found himself facing a redheaded troublemaker.

“Having fun back there, Ms. Ford?” he asked, sounding a lot more in control than he felt.

With an iron grip on her wrist, he forced her to stop those teasing strokes and dragged her around to face him.

Not even the dim lighting concealed the flash of challenge in her eyes. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I was.” She gave a tug to break his grip, but he didn’t let go. “You’ve got nice biscuits. I’m in trouble now. You’re going to haunt my dreams.”

“I’m the one in trouble.”

Her smile widened. “Why don’t you just let go, Adam. You’re attracted to me and I’m attracted to you. We can have a good time together.”

“You’re a guest in my hotel.”

Impulse demanded he get off this table and out of reach, but he swung around and sat up instead. His nakedness was her problem, not his. And as she’d been the one massaging him to near arousal…she could deal with the sight of that, too.

But Tori was ready for him. Starting her gaze at his feet, she worked her way up his body. The gleam in those midnight eyes grew brighter along the way.

“What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?” he asked.

“The part about why you’re using the word. You seem to be enjoying yourself.” She gazed pointedly at his crotch. “I want to understand why you stopped me.”

“You mean aside from the fact that I thought you were my usual massage therapist having a very unusual effect on me?”

She nodded. “Am I moving too fast, Adam? Will it help if I slow down?”

“I don’t mix business with pleasure, Ms. Ford.”

She pursed her lips in a pouty expression that dragged his gaze from her flashing eyes to that delightful mouth. The urge to drag her into his arms and kiss those lips was so strong that only stubbornness saved him.

“What do you do for pleasure, Adam?”

He wondered what had prompted the change in tactics, but he wouldn’t buy into her game. He’d already delineated the boundaries and wouldn’t back down now just because his crotch throbbed and he wanted her to ease the ache she’d created.

She stood barely a foot away, and he noticed for the first time she wore sweatpants and a ribbed T-shirt that clung to her curves, leaving nothing to the imagination. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail, giving him a clean shot of her face.




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