Run for Covers

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.”