The Wager

Torn between his own desire to reclaim the Princess and the anxiety he heard in Olivia’s voice, Josh opted to be honest with her. “You know I want the Princess. My helping you bring this Laura Harte here to run it would be like cutting my own throat. You’d only end up turning it over to her. The smart thing for me to do is not to help you and let the place continue to bleed money. Eventually you’ll have to cut your losses. And when you do, I’ll buy the hotel.”

“But that’s where you’re wrong,” she informed him. “I told you, I’m not interested in selling the Princess. And I assure you, I am not going to change my mind.”

Frustrated, Josh said, “Then I guess we’re both wasting our time.”

“Oh, sit down,” she ordered when he started to rise. “I said I wouldn’t sell you the Princess. But if you’ll help me, convince my granddaughter to come home to run the hotel, then I’ll give you a chance to win it.”

Josh narrowed his eyes. “Win the Princess? How?”

“The same way that I won her from your grandfather.”

“I’m listening,” Josh told her, intrigued even though he tried not to be.

“If my granddaughter turns out to be the woman I believe she is, I’ll turn over management of the hotel to the two of you. You’ll have six months to turn the operation around. At the end of that time if the hotel shows a profit, no matter how small, I’ll sign over ownership to Laura and—”

“Forget it. I’m not interested in working for you, Duchess. And I’m not interested in a partnership with your long-lost granddaughter,” Josh countered, sure he knew where Olivia was heading. “I’ll buy the Princess from you right now. Name your price.”

“You’re just as pigheaded as your grandfather was,” Olivia accused, her mouth tightening. “For Simon it had to be all or nothing, too. That’s why he insisted on that foolish wager with my father. If Simon won, I would break my engagement to Henry Jardine and marry him. If I won, Simon would sign over the Princess Hotel to me and get out of my life forever.”

“And you won.”

“Yes, I won,” Olivia said. Wheeling over to a secretary situated in a corner of the room, she opened a drawer and retrieved a small package before returning to where Josh waited. She placed a deck of cards bound with a faded gold ribbon in the center of the table, then lifted her gaze to Josh’s. “I’m offering you a similar wager, Joshua. I’ll give you a chance to win back Simon’s Princess. Convince Laura to come to New Or-leans, to work with you and turn the hotel around. If you’re successful, at the end of the six months, the two of you will draw cards just as your grandfather and I did fifty-six years ago.”

“And the stakes?” Josh asked, unable to believe what she was offering him.

“The deed to the Princess.” She loosened the ribbon from around the cards, placed the deck in front of him and met his gaze once more. “One game. High-card draw. Winner takes all.”

“It sounds almost too good to be true.”

“I asked if you were a risk-taker. You assured me you were—if the stakes were right.”

The stakes were more than right. They were downright incredible. He shoved a hand through his hair.

“Joshua?”

“Six months isn’t much time to turn a hotel operation around,” he argued as he began to analyze the pitfalls in the crazy scheme. “What if we can’t pull the hotel out of the red that quickly?”

“Then all bets are off. I keep the Princess.”

“And there’s always the chance that even if we succeed in pulling the hotel out of the red, that Laura will win the card game.”

“True. But I can’t help thinking you might have better luck convincing Laura to sell you the hotel than you’ll have with me.”

Of course, she was right. Still, it was too easy, Josh thought. The way she had laid out the plan, the worst thing that could happen is he’d be right where he was now—without the Princess. On the other hand, he could win and end up owning the Princess for nothing more than a little of his time and effort. Or he could find himself negotiating with Olivia’s granddaughter to buy the place. He thought of the woman in the photograph again, remembered the unshakable confidence in those blue eyes, that stubborn take-your-best-shot tilt of her chin.

“I must admit, I expected more eagerness on your part at a chance to win back the Princess.”

She was playing with him, Josh realized as he rubbed at his chin. “Unlike my grandfather, I try to look before I leap.”

“Then why don’t I see if I can help you make up your mind?” she replied calmly. Her lips curved slightly, and he knew she was about to put him between a rock and a hard place. “Either you go along with things as I’ve laid them out, or you’ll have to wait until I’m dead before you get another chance to bring the Princess under the Logan Hotels banner.”

When he still hesitated, she said, “Just so you know, I had my annual physical last week. Despite whatever rumors you may have heard and the fact that I might use this chair occasionally, my doctor claims I’m in excellent health and could live another twenty years. And if you think that I won’t be able to sustain the losses at the Princess, you’d better think again. The other Jardine properties and investments are even healthier than I am.”

“You’re a hell of a poker player yourself, Duchess.”

“So I’ve been told,” she replied.

Josh thought of his grandfather again, remembered the way the older man’s face had lit up whenever he’d spoken about the Princess, the way his eyes had glowed with pride as he’d talked about building the hotel. And he remembered the promise he’d made to him all those years ago.

“What’s it going to be?” Olivia asked.

He was crazy to even consider this, Josh told himself. His grandfather had been dead for more than five years. Did it really matter if he kept his promise now that he was gone?

It mattered, Josh admitted. He’d made a promise, and his grandfather had taught him that a man always lived up to his promises. He stared across the table at Olivia, and couldn’t help but feel that he was about to make a bargain with the devil, a bargain he would come to regret.

“Do we have a deal?”

“Yes, Duchess. We have a deal.”

And as he tapped his glass against Olivia’s to seal the bargain they’d made, Josh’s gaze fell to the open folder on the desk where Laura Harte’s picture stared up at him. There it was again—that slam-in-the-gut punch of attraction. And he couldn’t help wondering if he had inherited Simon Logan’s impulsive streak after all.

Three

“You had no right to contact her, Uncle Paul,” Laura said, still reeling from the call she’d received from Olivia Jardine three days earlier. She stared down at the Caesar salad she’d ordered in the hotel’s café and recalled how the older woman had practically ordered Laura to come to New Orleans.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to upset you like this.”

At the expression on her uncle’s face, Laura immediately regretted her sharp tone. “I know you meant well. But you shouldn’t have contacted her.”

“I was worried about you,” her uncle explained. “I’m still worried about you. Look at you. You’ve lost weight. There are shadows under your eyes. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I’m fine,” Laura insisted, even though she knew that in the two months since the accident, her injuries may have healed, but the pain of her mother’s deception and the shock of learning the truth about her father had taken its toll.

“Then how come the only time you leave your apartment these days is to go to work? And why can’t I even remember the last time I saw you smile?”

“Maybe because losing my mother and then finding out everything I believed about myself was a lie hasn’t exactly left me in a mood to party or smile lately.”

Her uncle visibly flinched.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Paul. That was uncalled for,” she said, and reached for his hand, shamed that she’d hurt him with harsh words. “I shouldn’t be taking my frustrations out on you.”

“It’s okay.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I know this hasn’t been an easy time for you.”

No, it hadn’t been easy. It had been a nightmare. And even though she’d told herself a hundred times that nothing had changed, that she was still the same person now that she’d been before learning the truth, she didn’t feel the same. She felt different, as though she’d been stripped of her identity, of who and what she was.

“You’ve been dealt several blows at once. That’s why I contacted Olivia Jardine. I thought that perhaps…maybe if you were to meet your family and—”

“They are not my family,” Laura informed him, snatching her hand free. “My name is Laura Harte—not Jardine.” She reached for the glass of tea with unsteady fingers. She refused to think of Andrew Jardine as her father or any of his relatives as her family.

“Laura, if you’d just—”

“You’ll have to excuse me, Uncle Paul. I really do need to get back to work.” She tossed down her napkin and stood, eager to retreat to her office and put an end to the discussion.

Her uncle frowned as he rose. “Will I see you for brunch on Sunday?”

Pain swift and sharp hit her as memories flooded back—memories of the Sunday brunches shared with her uncle and her mother for most of her childhood and a great number of her adult years. It had been a lovely ritual, but now it, too, was a part of the past. “I’m afraid I can’t make it. I promised the Realtor who’s going to list mother’s house that I would finish packing up this weekend so they can begin showing the house next week.”

“You’re selling Juliet’s house?”

The devastation in her uncle’s voice matched his expression. She’d long suspected Paul Shaw’s feelings for her mother ran much deeper than those of a friend. Losing her had been as difficult for him as it had been for her, Laura realized. She touched his arm. “It’s for the best, Uncle Paul. A house needs to be lived in.”

“But it’s your home, too.”

Laura shook her head. “It hasn’t been for a long time now. It’s too far out for me to commute every day. And you know I work crazy hours and weekends. The house is being neglected, and it shows. Mother would hate that. It’s better if I sell it to someone who’ll take care of it properly.”

“Juliet loved that house.”

“I know.” Her mother had adored the country cottage, and she’d spent countless hours tending its gardens. But each time she’d been to the house since her mother’s death, Laura found herself missing her mother more. “She’s gone now, and I have to let her go. We both do, Uncle Paul. We need to get on with our lives.”

“Yes. You’re right, of course,” he said, his voice sad but resigned.

“Listen, I’d better get back upstairs before they send out a search party.” She kissed his weathered cheek.

When she started to withdraw, he held on to her. “I really am sorry. About…about everything.”

“I know,” she whispered, and gave his cheek a pat before stepping back. She was sorry, too—sorry to have the fantasies she’d believed about her parents shattered into a million pieces.

Some of her thoughts must have shown on her face because her uncle caught her off guard when he said, “Maybe it would be a good idea if you were to talk to someone…a professional—”

“No.” Laura stepped back from him, eager to escape. The last thing she wanted was to share the shameful truth she’d discovered. How could she possibly tell anyone that the father she’d worshiped all her life had actually been a philanderer? A man who had abandoned his pregnant lover and child so that he could marry his society bride and father three legitimate children? Anger welled up inside Laura again—toward her mother, toward the man responsible for giving her life. How she wished that she’d never learned the truth, that the secrets had gone with her mother to the grave.

“But—”

“Thanks, Uncle Paul. But really, I’m fine.”

Only she wasn’t fine, Laura admitted the next afternoon as she rummaged through her desk drawer for a file. Her fingers stilled when she spied the framed snapshot of her parents. Her heart ached at the sight of the photograph that, until two months ago, had sat on her credenza. After learning the truth about her father, she’d banished the picture to the back of her desk drawer, hoping to banish with it the ache of betrayal. It hadn’t worked, she realized as she retrieved the photograph. Grief and anger warred within her as she stared at her mother’s young and smiling face. “Oh, Momma, I miss you so much,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

She traced the edges of the small pewter frame and thought of all the years her mother had spent alone. Wasted years in which her mother had turned away suitors, claiming she had found and lost the only man she would ever love. Laura squeezed her eyes shut and recalled her mother’s voice, the dreamy look on her face whenever she’d spoken about her fairy-tale romance, her great love and loss.

And it had all been a lie.

Just as her childhood, her very identity, had all been rooted in that lie.

Opening her eyes, Laura stared at the face of the handsome navy lieutenant with his arm wrapped around her mother.

Her father.

Not Richard Harte. Not the dashing hero she’d loved and respected and longed for all of her life. Her father was the wealthy, irresponsible Andrew Jardine—the man who had so carelessly discarded her mother and gone back to his society life. It wasn’t fair, Laura thought as anger burned in her heart toward the man. He had led a full life. He had had a wife, other children. While her mother…her mother had been left with a life built on lies and a child to raise alone.

The intercom on her desk buzzed, jarring Laura from her thoughts. She shoved the picture back into the desk drawer and reined in her emotions. “Yes?”

“Hello, sunshine.”

Laura smiled at the sound of Nick Baldwin’s voice. The general manager and owner of the Ambassador Grand and her boss for the past year, Nick was smart, charming and one of the nicest men she’d ever known. He was also one of the best-looking—a fact that was not lost on the hotel’s female guests or staff.

“How’s my favorite assistant GM this afternoon?”

Laura chuckled at his remark. “I’m fine. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m your only assistant GM,” she reminded him.

“That’s right! How on earth could I make a mistake like that?”

“Beats me.”

“Maybe it’s because you do enough work around here for two people.”

“And maybe I’m wondering why you’re laying it on so thick,” she teased.

“Just stating the facts.”

A rush of gratitude spilled through her at Nick’s praise. He was a great boss, one who never failed to let her know she was appreciated. He was also a dear friend and had proved so often during the past couple of months. She could think of few people who would have done what he had—handling the arrangements for her mother’s funeral, insisting she take as much time as she needed before coming back to work even though the hotel was extraordinarily busy. And there had been genuine worry in Nick’s eyes last week when he’d expressed concern about how she was holding up. Yet as much as she liked and respected Nick, she hadn’t been able to tell him the truth. She wasn’t sure she ever could tell him or anyone.

“Laura, you still there?”

Shaking off her gloomy thoughts, Laura attempted to recapture the happy mood Nick’s call had sparked. “Right here and worrying because I have a feeling that you’re about to drop some major catastrophe in my lap.”

“You’re a cynic, Ms. Harte.”

“Hardly, Mr. Baldwin,” she said with a laugh. “I distinctly recall the last time you were laying on praise this thick. It was just before you told me that the hotel was overbooked and I had to find fifty rooms pronto.”

“An honest mistake. Besides, I wasn’t the one who failed to block the space in the hotel’s main system.”

“Yes, I remember whose fault that was,” she conceded. She was sure that Nick remembered, too. The fault had rested on the very attractive, man-hunting reservation agent in the hotel’s sales department who had been so busy trying to catch Nick’s eye that she tended to let minor things like her job slide.

“The important thing to remember is that it all worked out okay.”

It had. Thanks to her scrambling like mad and absorbing the cost of those extra rooms at a neighboring hotel. The unexpected expense had played havoc with her budget, but she’d taken the hit to preserve the goodwill of the account.

“You got a few minutes?”

Laura eyed the file folder on her desk. “I was about to go over the meeting room charts for the cardiologists’ convention that’s arriving tomorrow before I sign off on it. After that, I’m free.”

“Great. How about coming by my office when you’ve finished?”

“Sure.” She paused, worried over her last conversation with Nick. She didn’t want to get into another discussion with him about what he perceived as her unhappiness lately. “Was there something in particular you wanted to see me about?”

“Actually, there’s someone that I’d like you to meet.”

A prospective client, Laura guessed, and felt a measure of relief. Perhaps it was just what she needed—the challenge of a tough new account to sink her teeth into and get her mind off of her own troubles. “Give me ten minutes to wrap this up and I’ll be there.”

Josh sat across from Nick Baldwin and listened to his old college friend’s side of the conversation with Laura Harte. In many ways, he and Nick were a lot alike, he thought. They both came from families whose fortunes had been made in the small luxury-hotel business. They both had grown up knowing that one day they, too, would be a part of the family business. And they both had been part of a dwindling breed of hoteliers who still retained ownership of the family hotels. Many family-owned chains like the Fairmont had done as its owners the Swigs had done—sold their interests to some Saudi prince or hotel conglomerate. The Logans hadn’t. Nor had the Jardines. And neither had the Baldwins—at least not voluntarily.

From what Nick had told him when they’d been at college, Big Jack Baldwin had managed to gamble all four family hotels away before his son hit eighteen. But from what he knew and the buzz in the industry, Nick had not only reclaimed the hotels lost by his father, he was on his way to buying more. And although Logan Hotels far outranked the Jardine and Baldwin family operations because of the number of hotel properties they held, all three families remained part of the elite group of hoteliers whose name was synonymous with luxury. Given what he’d seen of the Ambassador Grand, Nick was maintaining the tradition.

Josh grinned as he thought back to the first time he’d met Nick—a dozen years ago when the two of them had both been enrolled in the university’s hotel management program and working nights for Logan Hotels. He’d have sworn the two of them had had absolutely nothing in common. He’d pegged Nick as a West Coast prick whose rich family had used their connections to get him a job. In turn, Baldwin had pegged Josh as a dumb-wit Southern boy who didn’t know squat about hotels. They’d both been proved wrong. After several minor clashes, the two of them had been sharing drinks and dreams. The friendship had waned due to time, distance and Nick’s romance with Josh’s sister. But he’d decided to use what remained of the old friendship, anyway, as a means to reach Laura Harte. Instead of approaching Laura with Olivia’s request at her home, he’d opted to do so on neutral turf. He’d also wanted to get a chance to see her in action.

“She’ll be here in a couple of minutes,” Nick said as he hung up the phone.

“Thanks,” Josh said, dragging his thoughts back to the reason he was there—to try to convince Laura Harte to come to New Orleans and meet her family. Too edgy to sit, he stood and began to prowl the spacious office. He stopped in front of the window and admired the view of the bay. “I owe you one.”

“I’ll settle for you telling me what this personal business is you want to discuss with Laura.”

Josh paused. Turning, he studied the wary brown eyes of his old friend. “I can’t. You’ll just have to trust me when I tell you that it’s personal and I’m here as a favor to a friend.” Yet even as he said the words, guilt plagued him. He seriously doubted that Olivia could be classified as a friend. At the admission, he once again cursed his decision to take Olivia up on her crazy offer. Why had he allowed himself to be talked into this mess? Just as quickly as the question formed, so did the answer—the Princess. He wanted her. He had from the very first time his grandfather had taken him to the hotel. His chest tightened as he thought of his grandfather, the vow he’d made to one day reclaim the Princess. That vow was the reason he was here, Josh reminded himself. He hadn’t been able to turn away a chance to win her back.

“At least give me a name. Tell me who this friend of yours is?”

“Come on, Nick,” Josh said with a sigh. He walked back across the room to stand before his friend. “Listen, I tell you what. After I talk to Ms. Harte, if she wants to share the context of our conversation with you, she’s free to do so. But it’ll have to be her call. Until then, I’m asking you to back off.”

Nick frowned. His fingers curled around the pen he’d been fidgeting with since hanging up the phone. “All right. I’ll back off—for now. Just remember what I said. Laura’s been through a lot lately. She’s been sort of fragile since her mother was killed.”

“I understand. And I promise, it isn’t my intention to upset her.” Yet if what Olivia had told him about Laura Harte’s reaction to the older woman’s phone call was accurate, Josh suspected that the lady might very well be upset when she discovered why he was there.

“Then make sure you don’t. Because I’m warning you, Logan, you upset Laura and I am going to be one unhappy guy.”

Josh narrowed his gaze. “What gives, Nick? Something going on between you and Laura Harte besides business?” For some reason, the idea of his friend being involved with the woman whose photo he’d studied repeatedly since that night at Olivia’s left a foul taste in his mouth.

“You know me better than that. I have rules about mixing business and pleasure, remember?”

“Yeah. But I also remember a time when you broke those rules with my kid sister.”

Heat flashed in Nick’s eyes. He pushed back his chair and strode over to the windows that overlooked the bay. When he turned around, his expression was once more inscrutable. “That was a long time ago. It wasn’t anything serious.”

“Tell that to Faith. She blamed me when my folks shipped her off to intern at the London hotel that summer. She didn’t speak to me for months.”

“She was just a kid.”

“Yeah.” For the first time, Josh wondered if maybe he’d been wrong all those years ago. Could Nick have been more serious about Faith than he’d thought? When he’d first gotten wind that his best friend was romancing his baby sister, he’d been furious. He’d been sure Nick was just toying with Faith since he knew Nick was like him when it came to women—he enjoyed them but wasn’t interested in commitment. After he’d torn a strip off of his friend, he’d gone to his father and spilled the beans. “Faith thought she was in love with you, and she blamed me for busting you two up.”

A haunted look came across Nick’s face. He turned away, stared out the window once more. “It was for the best. Anyway, I heard she got married.”

“Unfortunately, I wasn’t around to check out the scumbag until it was too late and she married him. But I did make sure I was around to help her pick up the pieces when she came to her senses and divorced him.”

The hand Nick had jammed through his hair stilled. He turned around. “Faith’s divorced?”

“Almost a year ago.”

“I hadn’t heard,” Nick said. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out for her.”

Josh wasn’t sure what to make of Nick’s reaction. Was it possible that his friend had actually been serious about Faith?

“Listen, about Laura…I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. She’s a terrific lady. Smart, really sharp. She works hard and has a real feel for the business. She’s good. Someday she’s going to make a hell of a GM. But there isn’t anything personal going on between us. We’re friends. Good friends. But that’s all.”