Metsy Hingle - Backfire

“A mistake?”

“Yes.” Irritated, confused, he wasn’t sure who he was angrier with—himself for kissing her or her for making him want to do it again. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her a second time. “It was inappropriate of me to kiss you.”

“Inappropriate?” She repeated the word as though she had bitten into a lemon and found the taste sour.

Chase cut a glance at her and noted the stubborn angle of her chin, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. Her outraged expression only added to his agitation. “You don’t have to go all prissy and proper on me, Princess. I’m sure I’m not the first man who’s kissed you. Hell, unless he’s a saint or a priest, any man from eight to eighty would be hard-pressed not to contemplate kissing you at least once.”

Her eyes smoldered. “And you’re neither,” she said between clenched teeth.

“No. I’m not.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “Look, I said I was sorry. Kissing you was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re right. It was a mistake and it had better not happen again,” she replied, squaring her shoulders. Her breasts thrust against the jacket of her suit, burning him with thoughts of feeling them pressed against him.

A burst of desire rocketed through him with the heat and speed of a shooting star. Cursing himself again for his reaction to her, Chase looked away, still not understanding or liking the fact that she affected him as she did.

“There are laws against mauling female employees, Mr. McAllister,” Madeline continued in that sweet, prim voice of hers. “I hope you don’t make it a practice.”

Chase whipped around at the accusation. “The ‘mauling’ wasn’t exactly one-sided, Ms. Charbonnet.”

“You kissed me.”

“And you kissed me back,” he countered, daring her to deny it and feeling a measure of satisfaction when she didn’t. “But just for the record the answer’s no. I don’t make a practice of becoming involved with people who work for me.”

The comment brought her head snapping up again. Her eyes flashed with cold fury. “I don’t work for you.”

“You work for the hotel. And like it or not, I’m in charge of the hotel.” Chase was irritated with himself and with her for pretending she hadn’t been equally affected by the kiss. He itched to kiss her again and wipe that snooty look off her face. But that would be another mistake, one he would be wise to avoid.

That dainty little chin of hers rose another notch. “Funny, I thought you were merely an employee of Majestic Hotels—not the owner. In fact, I wasn’t even sure you had a title other than troubleshooter.”

“Oh, I’ve got a whole string of titles, but troubleshooter fits well enough. Probably better than most of the others since I tend to enjoy trouble. You might even say I thrive on it.”

She arched one dark brow. “Eliminating it or causing it?”

“I’m very good at both.”

“I’ll just bet you are,” she said, her voice as cool as her green eyes.

It was the coolness that got to him. And he decided to push her a tad harder—partly because he wanted to watch those expressive eyes of hers shift from cold to hot, partly because he wanted to make sure that things between them wouldn’t go any further. Right now, that thought didn’t appeal to him—not when just looking at her set his hormones back two decades and had him feeling like a raw teenager again. So he pushed the buttons he was pretty sure would make her do the shoving. “And while it’s against my own personal policy to become involved with an employee, if you’re planning to resign anyway, I guess there’s no reason the two of us couldn’t engage in some good old-fashioned mutual lust.”

Chase caught her hand before it made contact with his cheek. She tugged, but he held on to her wrist.

Fury shimmered in her eyes. “Don’t hold your breath, McAllister. Despite what you’d like, I have no intention of resigning. And as for their being any mutual lust, not in this lifetime, buster.”

“No?” He stroked his thumb across her wrist.

Madeline averted her gaze to some point past his shoulder. “While I’ll admit to some elemental curiosity on my part—”

“Curiosity?” He moved a fraction closer and smiled as her pulse skittered beneath his thumb.

“All right, attraction,” she said, glaring at him. “For some perverse reason, I do find you attractive in the most basic animalistic sort of way. That’s why I allowed you to kiss me.”

“You allowed me to kiss you,” he repeated in that same prim voice she had used.

“Yes.”

Chase chuckled. “Princess, I’ve got a news bulletin for you. Whether you like it or not, that kiss wasn’t one-sided.” He leaned even closer and saw the awareness register in her eyes. He didn’t bother to hide his grin of satisfaction, pleased that she was as affected by him as he was by her. “And as much as we both might like to repeat the experience, I’m afraid we’re not going to. You see, I meant what I said, I don’t believe in becoming involved with employees—even when the employee happens to be a sweet little Southern belle like yourself. But if you think resisting me is going to be a problem for you, I’ll certainly understand if you want to reconsider your decision to stay on at the hotel.”

“Oh, I think I can resist you, Mr. McAllister.” She yanked her wrist free.

“Think so?”

“I know so,” she informed him.

“You know, Princess, that almost sounds like a dare. Makes me tempted to prove you wrong. I can be quite charming when I set my mind to it.” He flashed her another grin.

Her back went stiff as a board. “Then I suggest you save your so-called charm and killer smiles for another victim. Because I’m not interested.”

“No?” he asked, moving his mouth within a whisper of hers.

“No,” she said firmly, meeting his gaze. “You see, I’ve never been particularly fond of pork. And you really are a first-rate pig, McAllister. As for my resigning, don’t hold your breath.” The smile she gave him was as hard as day-old French bread. “Now unless you want to discover what it feels like to be kneed in the groin by this sweet Southern belle, I suggest you back off.”

Chase stepped back instantly, never doubting for a second that she would make good on her threat if he didn’t.

Madeline turned and jerked the door open.

“Oh, and, Princess,” Chase said, staying her movement.

“What?” she snapped impatiently.

“Don’t forget about the staff meeting tomorrow morning. I’d hate to see you miss another one.”

Madeline slipped in the rear door of the conference room and eased into an empty seat in the back row, just as her father began to speak.

Punctual by nature, she felt foolish arriving late deliberately. No doubt doing so was a perverse reaction to Chase’s parting remark the previous afternoon. At least she had overcome her initial inclination not to come at all. That was probably what he had hoped she would do—give him a reason to dismiss her.

Well, she had no intention of falling in with his plans. Now more than ever she was determined to stay on at the hotel, if for no other reason than to prove to her father and to Chase that they were both wrong about her. Not only was she capable of running the hotel, but she also was capable of resisting Chase McAllister.

“I called this meeting today to thank each of you for your service and dedication to the Saint Charles Hotel. Many of you have been with the hotel and with the Charbonnet family for a great number of years…”

Madeline tried to concentrate on her father’s remarks, but unerringly her gaze wandered from her father to Chase.