Janice Maynard - A Not-So-Innocent Seduction

He nodded briefly and excused himself as Marjorie took over. Crossing the lobby to where Pierre held court, he kept an eye on the newcomer. “Not our usual clientele.”

Pierre pursed his lips. In his sixties now, he had worked for the Kavanagh family since he was a young man. He wore his formal black tuxedo with pride and ruled his realm with a firm hand. “Pretty,” he said.

Liam nodded absently. He couldn’t place her age. Pale skin so pure and fine it seemed almost translucent made her seem youthful, but in her serene gaze he saw the patina of experience. He wasn’t sure why she fascinated him so. Perhaps because she was the antithesis of the expertly made-up women who often checked into the Lodge.

Visitors to the Silver Beeches were either retirees with plenty of disposable income, younger generations whose careers afforded them fame and fortune, or merely those who wanted to hide from the world. Privacy was an unspoken amenity. From rock stars to movie idols, from politicians to European royalty, every guest was pampered.

As a bellman came in from outside with the new guest’s single suitcase, Marjorie handed a key card to the young woman and pointed her toward the elevators. When the bellman and his charge disappeared, Marjorie slipped from behind the desk and approached Liam and Pierre.

Liam frowned slightly. “Problem?”

Marjorie, a stout woman in her mid-fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, shook her head. “Not exactly. But I thought you’d want to know. She booked a basic room for six weeks.”

Both men stared at her. Liam recovered first, though his gut tightened with unease. “Any problem with authorizing her method of payment?”

The seasoned receptionist shook her head. “Platinum card. No limit. But tell me—who books a reservation like that on the day of arrival? Spontaneity is one thing, but this is weird, don’t you think?”

Liam kept his expression neutral with effort. Red flags were popping up all over the place, but he didn’t want his staff to see that he was perturbed. “I’m sure she has her reasons.”

Pierre straightened his spine, his gaze fierce. “I’ll keep an eye on her, sir. If there’s any funny business, I’ll let you know.”

Maeve Kavanagh appeared from the direction of the back stairs, her bun slightly askew and her reading glasses dangling from a chain around her neck. Liam’s mother was a vibrant sixty-year-old with dark snapping eyes and a nose for sniffing out trouble. “You all three look like you’ve eaten a lemon. What’s going on?”

Liam kissed her on the cheek. “Not a thing. Marjorie checked in a new guest. We were merely speculating about her background.”

Maeve sniffed. “Not your place,” she said firmly. “You know I can’t abide gossip.”

Liam smiled wryly. “Yes, ma’am. I remember.” Inwardly, he was far less amused. The irregularities about the new guest’s booking set his teeth on edge. He hated mysteries and secrets. His father’s hidden life had nearly destroyed their family. And in the end had led to Reggie Kavanagh’s premature death.

The one trait Liam couldn’t abide in a woman, or a man for that matter, was a predilection to bend the truth. Even if the potential prevaricator came wrapped in a very appealing package.

Before he could give in to the temptation to initiate further contact with the blonde, he managed a smile for his mother and Pierre and Marjorie. “If you three will excuse me, I have some calls to make.” Striding down the hall to his office, he told himself he was jumping to conclusions. The newcomer could have any number of valid reasons for deciding on the spur of the moment to stay alone at a pricey hotel for six weeks.

Trouble was, despite his best efforts, Liam couldn’t come up with a single one.

* * *

Zoe grilled the bellman on the way upstairs. “So tell me. Who’s the yummy guy that looks like a young Harrison Ford?”

The teenage bellhop grinned. “That’s Mr. Kavanagh. Mr. Liam Kavanagh. His family owns the Silver Beeches. Well, that and most of the town, as well.”

“He works for a living?” She was surprised. In her experience, the überrich kept to themselves as much as possible.

The young man waited politely for her to step out of the elevator when they reached the top floor. “Every one of the Kavanagh men does something. They were brought up to respect a hard day’s work, even though the whole family is richer than God. Mr. Liam manages the hotel along with his mother.”

Inside the room, Zoe reached in her bag for a generous tip that made the kid’s eyes light up. “Thanks for your help,” she said.

He bowed awkwardly. “All you have to do is dial the front desk if you need anything. Room service is available 24/7. In the center drawer of the dresser you’ll find listings about all the restaurants here and off-site as well. Welcome to Silver Glen.”

Alone in her luxurious new quarters, Zoe opened the armoire and smiled as she imagined how little of the space her belongings would fill. Learning to travel light had been a necessary lesson, and one she had mastered long ago. Nevertheless, she carefully unloaded her suitcase and put away everything she had brought with her. Being neat was perhaps a relic of her parents’ influence, the one trait she couldn’t shake.

There were still a few items in the van, but nothing she needed urgently. She turned in a slow circle, taking in every detail of her new accommodations. Here in the mountains of North Carolina, one might have expected a more rustic decor, but the Silver Beeches Lodge was elegant in the extreme.

The lobby alone telegraphed that message. Italian marble floors. Sparkling chandeliers. Priceless Oriental rugs of massive size. Enormous urns filled with fresh flowers. It had taken Zoe only moments to decide that Bessie had been correct about her silent suggestion. Zoe needed to rest, and this lovely hotel promised to be peaceful.

Never mind that it cost an arm and a leg. Her usual lifestyle was lean and frugal, so this splurge would not break the bank. Besides, after the winter she had endured, she deserved a little pampering.

Walking barefoot across the plush ivory carpet, she opened her guitar case and removed the instrument. The comfy bay-window seat was covered in crimson velvet. Poor Bessie would never have made it up the incline to the hotel. The Silver Beeches Lodge had literally been built into the side of the mountaintop, and its location gave guests a bird’s-eye view of the valley floor far below.

Zoe curled her legs beneath her and bent her head over the instrument that had traveled so many miles with her. Strumming it absently, she hummed a tune that had been dancing in her head. She’d had to resist the urge to coax the bellhop into lingering for a bit to answer her questions about the hotel owner. Just because she was lonely was no reason to get the kid in trouble.

Her reaction to meeting Liam Kavanagh was the equivalent of experiencing a crush on a movie star. His in-your-face masculinity made her feel dainty and feminine. She might even have swooned a little bit. Even now, her throat flushed as she remembered the way he looked at her. The man was a walking fantasy. She glanced out the window and sighed.

Night was falling rapidly, and shadows crept across the valley. Her stomach rumbled. She remembered that her last meal had been an orange and a Diet Coke at a rest stop on I-40. She wished she could go into town and explore, but until Bessie was fixed, she was stuck here in the hotel. Dialing room service, she ordered a large dinner, including a serving of tiramisu. She was still a good fifteen pounds underweight, so the extra calories wouldn’t hurt her.

She’d spent the last week in Asheville playing at a little coffee shop in the downtown district. Asheville was filled with artists and performers and had a character and charm that delighted her. If she’d had her way, she might have bought a place and put down some roots. But one evening she had seen a familiar face on the street, and she had known it was time to move on. The hotel’s strict privacy policy would stand her in good stead. No one would know she was here, and if she wore a bit of a disguise in town, she might be able to stay for even longer than the month and a half she had booked.