A Not-So-Innocent Seduction

He nodded slowly, regarding her with watchful eyes that were a brilliant, intense blue. Combined with his thick, coal-black hair, she began to see the Irish ancestry his name suggested.

She’d provoked him, and now he regarded her with a narrow-eyed gaze. “I’ll be there, Ms. Chamberlain. And I’ll have the kitchen deliver some special hors d’oeuvres to the bar.”

“I’ve already had dinner,” she felt compelled to point out.

“You’ll enjoy these,” he promised. “Nothing too heavy.”

“Does every guest get this personal treatment?”

Now, there was no mistaking his interest. “Only the ones who ask,” he said, the words calm and crisp. “I’ll see you shortly.”

* * *

Zoe decided not to shower in the dressing room. She hadn’t brought clean clothes with her, so it was easier to dart back up to her room and use the sumptuous facilities that made her feel decadent and a bit naughty. The clothes she’d had on earlier were somewhat travel-weary, so she reached in the armoire for a slinky black knit dress that packed like a dream. It showed every curve of her body, but she had worn it enough times to feel at ease in the sexy garment. Most of a woman’s appearance was dictated by confidence. Since she had learned stage presence long ago, it was easy to project an image, even if she didn’t feel her best inside.

Timidity and nerves could be disguised. In some of her darker moments—when faced with a bully or an amorous drunk who didn’t want to back off—she’d learned that the only way to prevail was to act like she didn’t give a damn. How many times over the years had she done exactly that? Liam was no doubt a perfectly lovely man, but the ability to appear comfortable when she was uncertain of an outcome would stand her in good stead.

Shaking off the dark memories, she inserted small gold studs in her earlobes and slipped her feet into black patent high-heeled sandals. The sleeveless dress was fairly modest except for the fact that it hugged her body. She glanced in the mirror and sighed. How long had it been since she shared an elegant meal with a man?

Most of the time, she was the music in the background of someone else’s life. She had planned it that way...enjoyed it mostly. But tonight, she looked forward to enjoying Liam Kavanagh’s courtly manners. And perhaps slipping past his facade of propriety.

She spritzed perfume at her ears and wrists and slipped a delicate gold chain around her neck. It hung between her breasts and caught the light. Somewhere, in a safety-deposit box far away, she had a large collection of expensive jewelry...pearls, diamonds, semiprecious stones. But as long as she played the role of gypsy, her baubles would go unclaimed. She didn’t care. Not really. But tonight it would have been nice to gild the lily with a bit of sparkly, feminine bling.

Taking a deep breath, she tucked her room key and phone into a small bag and headed for the door. Liam Kavanagh was downstairs, and she didn’t intend to keep him waiting.

Two

Liam bobbled his glass of wine—splashing a few drops on his hand—when Zoe walked into the bar. All heads swung in her direction, though she appeared oblivious to the interest she drew. Finally, he pinpointed part of her allure. It was the way she moved...graceful, energetic, as if she were always off on a delightful adventure.

Liam had been standing by the bar talking to the female bartender. With a lift of his hand, he caught Zoe’s attention, hoping his smile appeared more natural than it felt. His limbs tingled and his chest tightened. The physical manifestations of his arousal were disconcerting. He’d had a number of lovers in his adult life. He understood sexual hunger. But the intensity of his response to Zoe rattled him.

The dress she wore should have been outlawed. Even the harshest of critics would have to concede that it was modest in cut. A shallow scooped neck front and back, plus a hemline that covered her ankles, might have added up to a demure appearance. But the soft, pliable fabric slid over Zoe’s phenomenal body like a second skin.

He spent a good thirty seconds searching for any evidence that she wore underwear.

“Hello, Liam,” she said, her voice smooth as cream. “May I call you that?”

He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “I think you just did.”

Chuckling softly, she allowed him to seat her at a table for two tucked away in a shadowy corner. The bar was crowded tonight. He was glad. The public setting gave him time to get to know her and to decide if she was any kind of threat. Kissing her later seemed a foregone conclusion, but he would at least pretend to himself that he had a choice.

She glanced around the room. “Nice place. You and your family have good taste.”

“Thank you. I’m assuming you won’t be offended if I use your first name as well?”

“Of course not.”

“We’ve only just met. Some people prefer a bit of formality.”

“Not me. Social conventions get in the way.”

“In the way of what?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Becoming friends, I suppose.”

He took a sip of his wine, trying to read the subtext, if there was any. Before he could reply, a waiter appeared and set a plate of appetizers in front of them. Small wedges of melon and scallops wrapped in prosciutto had been skewered with toothpicks. He selected one and held it out. “Our chef is spectacular. Try a bite.”

He’d anticipated an argument. Instead, her lips parted and she leaned forward, allowing him to slide the delicacy between her lush, glossy, pale-pink lips. “Wonderful,” she said, after she chewed and swallowed. “Thank you.”

The sensuality and simple enjoyment in her response made him shift restlessly in his chair. As she sat back and smiled at him, her wavy golden hair swung around her shoulders. He couldn’t decide if she was trying to be provocative, or if he was overly sensitive to her allure.

At that moment, his mother appeared at his shoulder. “Hope I’m not interrupting. Please introduce me to this lovely girl,” she said.

A waiter scurried over with a third chair, and Liam stood until his mother was seated. Maeve Kavanagh had never been able to resist poking her nose into Liam’s affairs, either literal or metaphorical ones. Because he loved her dearly, he tolerated her interference, particularly since he hoped to get her impressions of the mysterious blonde. “Zoe Chamberlain, meet Maeve Kavanagh, my mother.”

The two women shook hands. Zoe grinned wryly. “I’m happy to meet you. But you’re far too young to be Liam’s mother. I think he gave me the wrong impression when he described you.” She crossed her legs beneath the table, the toe of her shoe brushing the crease in his trouser leg. Was she doing that on purpose?

Maeve shot him a glance that made the tops of his ears heat. “My firstborn has an odd sense of humor at times. We make allowances for him.” She helped herself to an appetizer. “What brings you to Silver Glen, Ms. Chamberlain? Business or vacation?”

“Call me Zoe, please. And actually, it’s neither. I had a nasty bout of pneumonia back in March. Spent a few days in the hospital. Since then I’ve been taking things easy. Your beautiful hotel seemed like the perfect place to rest and regain my stamina.”

“You’ve come to the right spot. We’ll pamper you so well you won’t want to go home.”

Serious illness explained her fragile appearance. Which led Liam to more questions. He inserted himself into the conversation. “And on that note, where is home, Zoe?”

For the first time, he saw her good humor waver. A shadow crossed her expressive face. But she recovered quickly. “I was born in Connecticut, but I haven’t lived there in years.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

Her jaw tightened. “Am I being interrogated?”

Maeve Kavanagh’s phone buzzed, signaling the arrival of a text. She glanced at it and grimaced. “Duty calls.” She stood and patted Liam’s shoulder. “Try not to alienate our newest guest, son. I’d like her to stay for a while.”

In the silence that followed his mother’s departure, Liam stared moodily at his tablemate. “Since when is polite conversation categorized as interrogation?”

She shrugged. “So far, the conversation has been pretty one-sided. I’m picking up weird vibes from you. Is there a problem you want to talk about?”

“No.” Yes. “Feel free to cross-examine me if it will make you feel better. My family is an open book. Ask anyone in town. They’ll tell you.”

“There’s no such thing as a clan without skeletons in the closet. But I’ll take you at your word. Do you have siblings?”

“More than I care to count. It’s the Irish Catholic thing. My mother deserves sainthood.”

“And your father?”

He couldn’t help the wave of anger that made his entire body go rigid. “He died when I was sixteen.”

“I’m sorry.” Her response was quiet. In her steady gaze he saw recognition of his turmoil. But he didn’t want anyone psychoanalyzing him. He ate another appetizer, his gaze drifting over the noisy but genteel crowd. “It was a long time ago,” he muttered, and was relieved when she allowed the subject to drop.

“Did you always know you wanted to run the hotel?”

“No. In fact, I had dreams of becoming a major-league football player.”

Her jaw dropped and she laughed out loud.

He scowled. “What’s so funny?”

You don’t really seem the type.”

“I can assure you, Zoe, I’ve played more than my share of high school and college sports.”

“I wasn’t impugning your athletic ability or your masculinity. It’s just that you seem rather sophisticated for the rough-and-tumble world of professional sports.”

“Sophistication is nothing more than clothes and demeanor. After my father’s death, it became clear that my studies were headed in a new direction. As soon as I finished an MBA, I returned home to assist my mother.”

“Did you really have no choice?” It sounded like more than a rhetorical question.

“No one dragged me back in chains, if that’s what you mean. But I felt the obligation of being the oldest. The others were still growing up. It was me or no one.”

“I see.”

His explanation seemed to bother her, though he couldn’t fathom why. “At the risk of sounding nosy, what did you study in college?”

“I spent four semesters at Vassar. Decided I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life, so I dropped out and joined the Peace Corps.”

“Are you serious?” More and more he got the impression that she was a throwback to the 1960s.

“It was wonderful,” she said simply. “And eye-opening. I was young and naive and had no clue that extreme third-world poverty existed.”

“Your parents were okay with you leaving school?”

“I didn’t really ask them.”

The more she revealed, the more he wanted to know. But she had accused him of interrogating her, and he had to respect her boundaries...not only because she was a guest in the hotel, but because it was the right thing to do.

“Would you like another drink?” he asked.

“A peach daiquiri would be nice.” Zoe cocked her head. “Why are you entertaining me?”

He summoned a waiter and gave their order. When the young man disappeared, Liam met her gaze squarely. “Has it occurred to you that you may be entertaining me?”

For the first time since they met in the lobby, he saw her flustered. Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink and she looked away for a moment. He used the opportunity to study her profile. The only thing marring a classically beautiful face was the thrust of a stubborn chin and the smallest of crooks in her nose.

His scrutiny did not go unnoticed. Her hands fiddled with a fork as she faced him again. “Do I have food on my face?” she asked, the words acerbic.

“Sorry. I was just wondering if you had ever broken your nose.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Not at all. But you have the features of a Greek goddess except for that tiny crooked place in your nose and the way you lead with your chin.”

“I’m not sure that counts as a compliment.”

“Merely trying to avoid social conventions.”

Finally, he coaxed a smile from her. “Touché.”

Their drinks arrived. Zoe sipped hers delicately, like a small child savoring an unaccustomed treat. He wanted to ask her flat out if she could afford a six-week stay at Silver Beeches, but of course, he couldn’t. Attending Vassar indicated a certain level of financial ease. Then again, she could have gone on a scholarship. The fact that he was so obsessed with her background gave him pause. Was his interest related to the hotel, or something more?

A man could want a woman without knowing anything at all about her other than the way she walked and the scent of her perfume. Simple lust he understood. But this fixation on ferreting out Zoe’s secrets alarmed him. Whether she was an eccentric heiress or a working girl with only months to live or European royalty hiding out from the press, her story was hers to tell.

Perhaps if he were patient, Zoe would open up to him. Two decades ago he had allowed infatuation to blind him to the truth about a woman. It had been a salutary lesson, and one he wouldn’t repeat. The fact that he was already so intrigued by Zoe meant he had to be very careful not to let his hormones overrule his common sense.

* * *

Zoe was having the most marvelous time. Dressed up for a change. Chatting with a suave, worldly, handsome man. Feeling like a desirable woman. All in all, quite an exceptional evening.

Liam was fascinating. On the outside, the epitome of a sophisticated gentleman. But in his conversation and in his eyes, she caught glimpses of another man, another less polished persona.

What did it say about her that she wanted to see more of the second?

She savored the last bit of her drink, feeling the pleasant buzz in her limbs as the alcohol worked its way through her bloodstream. She was not much of a drinker and had little tolerance for strong spirits. The daiquiri had just enough of a punch to leave her relaxed and happy.

Liam seemed in no hurry to end their encounter, so she lingered as well, even as the bar emptied slowly. It was fun to pick out the honeymooners, the anniversary couples. A few duos exhibited the marks of enjoying a clandestine affair.

Watching people was a hobby of Zoe’s. She knew how to fade into the background, especially with her guitar around her neck.

Over the years, her people skills had carried her far and had kept her out of harm’s way. A single woman on the road had to be smart and well prepared. Despite her current slenderness, she knew how to fell an assailant and how to disable an aggressor.

Tonight, however, such skills would not be needed. Liam was not the kind of man who had to force himself on a woman. The intensity of his eyes made her shiver. They were technically the same color as hers. But in Liam’s case, the blue was the searing shade found in the heart of a flame.

He had unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and loosened his tie. At the end of a long day, his jaw was shadowed. She imagined for a moment what he would look like in bed, ready for sleep after making love to a woman.

Her thighs tightened and her belly quivered. Perhaps Bessie had been wrong. Perhaps Silver Glen, North Carolina, presented danger rather than a safe haven. Zoe rarely had difficulty guarding her heart. Her transient lifestyle kept relationships at bay.

But then again, she had never met a man like Liam who appealed to her so immediately and so viscerally. Contentment ruled her days for the most part, even if loneliness had to be acknowledged and embraced.

For Liam Kavanagh she was willing to change all that. She knew it in an instant. Perhaps she was even willing to blindly follow the demands of her body and give in to the sweet rush of arousal. Throwing herself into an impulsive affair was completely out of character. But her illness during the late winter had shaken her.

Lying in a strange hospital in Albuquerque, New Mexico, near death at one point, she had hit rock bottom. No one knew where she was. There were no friends nearby to bring flowers and pop in for a visit. If she had slipped away into the great beyond, her passing would have sparked little more interest than a search for next of kin.

Shame and distress made her tremble. She had been on the run for so long that she no longer knew how to relax and enjoy life. She told herself that her needs were few. That traveling light was a virtue. But at the end of the day, what did she have to show for her twenty-seven years on this earth?

Contemplating change was difficult. And terrifying.

Liam reached across the table and took one of her hands in his. “Are you okay, Zoe? You’ve gone pale as milk. And you’re shaking. It’s late. If you’ve been ill, perhaps you need to be in bed.”

Was it her imagination, or did his fingers tighten on hers involuntarily when he said the word bed?

She managed a smile. “I’m fine. Maybe a ghost walked over my grave.”

“Are you superstitious?”

“No more than the next person, I suppose. But the Irish are, I’m told. Though you don’t strike me as the type of man who leans toward whimsy or flights of fancy.”

He released her. The color of his eyes darkened to midnight. His jaw set. “I’ve seen firsthand the pain caused by people who can’t hold on to reality. So, no. I’m not superstitious.”

The turn in the conversation had upset him. But she couldn’t let it drop. “And I’ve seen the damage done by soulless individuals who can’t see the magic in everyday life. So maybe the truth lies somewhere in between.”

They stared at each other. A pleasant evening of flirtation had segued into something far more serious.

He shook his head, his expression rueful. “I think we’ve strayed into territory best left unexplored for the moment. I was supposed to be telling you about things to see and do while you’re here.”

“True.” She glanced at his watch. “But it’s late. We can finish this tomorrow. I need to get some sleep.”

He stood when she did. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

“It’s not necessary.”

His gaze was teasing. “Merely one of our amenities.”

They exited the bar and headed for the duo of elevators in the lobby. Someone had lowered the lights. A sleepy desk clerk sketched a halfhearted wave as they passed by. The intimacy of the hour shrouded everything in a hushed silence.

In the elevator, Zoe leaned against one mirrored wall, Liam the other. His gaze was trained on the carpet at his feet, as though he were lost in thought. The ride was short. A quiet ding, and suddenly they were at Zoe’s floor.

“Good night,” she said, thinking he would remain in the elevator.

Instead, he accompanied her down the hallway. “Perhaps I should check for monsters under your bed,” he whispered, obviously not wanting to disturb his other guests.

She shot him a look, wondering if he expected to come in. “I’m sure a hotel like the Silver Beeches Lodge has a ghostbuster on retainer. But thanks for the offer.”

At her door, she reached in her small bag and withdrew her key card. “I enjoyed our visit,” she said primly. “Thanks for your time.”

They were not touching. Liam stood a good three feet away. But the look in his eyes scorched her. Beneath the thin fabric of her dress, her nipples beaded.

Liam noticed, and took a step backward. “It was my pleasure,” he said. The words were prosaic, but the intonation was not.

Desire shimmered between them, invisible but real. She didn’t really imagine that her vehicle talked to her. That was a game she played. But if she believed in fate, and perhaps she did, then this moment in time was preordained. Something had brought her to a small, private getaway in the mountains where the man of her dreams awaited her.

It was entirely possible she was being naive. Perhaps Liam entertained a number of female guests who walked into his hotel.

Even so, she chose to keep the fiction alive.

She looked at him wistfully, wishing she had the guts to kiss him. “Good night, Liam.”

He nodded tersely, his beautiful eyes turbulent. “Good night, Zoe.”

Three

Liam didn’t sleep worth a damn. His sex was stiff and aching off and on for most of the night. The few hours he did manage to close his eyes and doze, he dreamed of Zoe. When the alarm went off at seven, he groaned and slapped the snooze button. Normally a morning person, today he knew it was going to take more than a cup of coffee—or two or four—to keep him on track.

The dreams he’d experienced had been explicit and erotic. In his extremely vivid nocturnal imagination, Zoe was continually naked and smiling. And happy to see him. He could actually feel the warmth of her body draped across his. A pleasant notion that played well in his subconscious, but not so much in the harsh light of day.

The alarm shrilled a second time, and he gave in.

An hour later, showered, dressed and mostly awake, he headed down to the lobby. It was a weekday, so their check-ins would be light. Marjorie stopped him with a question about a multiroom booking. Pierre wanted to show him a website that might be of interest to their guests. By the time Liam finally made it to his office, it was almost ten.

He sat down at his desk and opened his laptop, gazing absently out his window that overlooked the side of the property. The groundskeeper had outdone himself this past year. Dogwoods bloomed in profusion amidst carefully sculpted banks of forsythia. Narrow paths dotted with ornamental benches invited guests to stop and enjoy the rainbow of irises, tulips and English wildflowers planted in traditional beds.

The tranquil view soothed Liam as a rule. But today it made things worse. Because he could imagine himself and Zoe walking in the moonlight out there. A glance at the calendar on the wall confirmed the fact that the lunar phase was full tonight.

Sucking in a disgusted breath, he forced himself to focus on work. He was a grown man too old to be ruled by his male anatomy. Last night was exhilarating and stimulating in more ways than one. But he had to slow down. He was the head of the Kavanagh family. He had responsibilities. Big ones. He didn’t have the luxury of following every sexual whim.

The landline phone rang, startling him. He picked it up automatically. “Silver Beeches Lodge. Liam Kavanagh speaking.”

The voice on the other end was familiar. “Hey, buddy. Do you have a minute to come down to the shop?”

“What’s up, Gary?” He and the owner of the Silver Chassis had gone to public school together for years and remained friends to this day, despite the differences in their financial situations. Maeve had taught her children from the cradle that they were no better than anyone else. Money is not the measure of a man. Liam had heard those words from her a hundred times.

Silver Glen’s most talented mechanic lowered his voice. “I don’t want to say anything over the phone. But I think you’ll want to see this.”

* * *

Liam snagged a bagel and a banana from the hotel kitchen and ate them on the way down the mountain. The scenic drive was so familiar, he could have done it in his sleep, but the view affected him every time. This town would not exist without Kavanagh ancestors. Every part of the community had Kavanagh blood running through its veins.

For Liam it was both a blessing and a curse. He was proud to be a part of something so special, but he was ruefully aware that his heritage chained him here as certainly as any prison bars.

He’d taken up the yoke after his father’s disappearance. He had stood beside his grieving mother and sworn to keep their family together and afloat. But in the process, he’d given up any autonomy over his future. The road ahead was never going to change. He had trained himself to ignore the bleak disappointment that knowledge occasionally evoked.

He parked on the street behind Gary’s shop and went in search of the owner. Gary was in the pit, examining the undercarriage of a vintage VW bus. When he noticed Liam’s presence, he called out. “Hold on.” Moments later, he climbed up and joined Liam. “This is what I wanted to show you.”