Flirting with Felicity (20 page)

“How is she involved?”

“I don’t know. That’s for my detectives to figure out.” He
could see that she needed him to try to make sense out of why Destiny had
turned on her. He only hoped when this was through that she would have the
answers she needed. Just as he hoped he would have his about his uncle. The
kitchen was clean, everything put away. He held out his hand. “It’s been a hell
of a day. Why don’t we go check on your father, then go to bed?”

She looked at him inquiringly. “Together? Are you sure that’s
wise?”

Nothing he’d done since coming to Seattle had been wise, but
he knew he didn’t want to be apart from her tonight, wise or not. He slipped
his arm around her waist. “How about we take the stairs?”

She smiled. “Follow me.”

Back upstairs in the new two-bedroom suite Felicity
had moved herself and her father into earlier in the day, she said good night
to Marie. She thanked the older woman for taking her father back upstairs, then
staying with him while she and Blake had been occupied with the police. On
silent feet Felicity crossed the living area, standing at the doorway of her
father’s room, watching him sleep. It had been quite a day, but in the end, her
father was safe, and Blake was with her.

She shut the bedroom door and moved to the light. Flicking it
off, she pitched them into darkness. Only the light of moonbeams seeping
through the window illuminated the room, though she didn’t need any light to
locate Blake. All her senses seem to lock in on him, helplessly drawing her
into his arms.

He folded his arms around her, pulling her against his chest.
She could hear the sound of his heart, beating in tempo with her own, telling
her he was every bit as affected by her presence as she was by his. She didn’t
want to dwell on any of the reasons why he wanted to be with her tonight.
Tonight she would have him for herself. There was no other outcome for them.

Darkness. Heat. Blake.

He lightly brushed his lips against her throat. A primal
shudder went through her. With the darkness enveloping them, her other senses
sharpened, and she could smell the woodsy scent that would always remind her of
Blake.

“You are so hard to resist. You always have been,” he
whispered against her hair.

“Then don’t resist.”

“Felicity,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “We have to
decide about the hotel.”

“We will, but not tonight. This moment has nothing to do with
the future. This moment is you and me, right here, right now.”

“And tomorrow?” he asked.

“Tomorrow will take care of itself.” Tonight she wanted to
set aside all the decisions that would need to be made and seize this moment
with both hands. She moved against him, blatantly inviting him into blissful
forgetfulness with her, demanding his attentions in return. Tonight they would
both hold back the tide of what tomorrow would bring, bury that sense of
something dreadful approaching that grew more intense every day they spent
together.

Tonight she wanted to set it all aside and know only their
passion for each other.

“Come with me,” he said, leading her toward the bed in the
other room. A mindless rush of pleasure flooded her senses, bringing the sound
of his voice into sharp focus. She held onto the languid tone, reveled in it,
as he slowly removed her clothing. Her own fingers trembled with desire as she
peeled his clothing from him and tossed it to the floor. With no more barriers
between them, he flipped the covers back, lay down, and pulled her down beside
him.

He was all heat and power in the darkness as he lowered his
head, slowly, until his breath washed over her lips. But he didn’t kiss her
then; instead his lips lowered to the base of her throat, to a freckle on the
arch of her collarbone, then lower, to her breast. His mouth closed on her
nipple. Heat flashed through her, the muscles of her stomach clenched. And
while he explored her with his mouth, his palm swept down her back, pressing
her to him, then sliding lower, over her hip, to grasp her bottom and angle her
hips to his.

Beneath the silver light of the moon, he molded his hard
length against her most intimate core. The sensation of his warmth, his
strength, his arousal, overpowered all else, working its way into her memory.
Never again would she be able to separate the silvery glow of the moonlight
from him, never would she want to. She trailed her hands slowly over his body,
savoring the feel of his sinewy strength. She dipped her hand down between
their bodies and touched his arousal with a boldness that surprised even her.
His body pulsed, throbbed, making her burn all the hotter. “I want you, Blake,”
she whispered against his lips. She wanted more of him, more than he’d ever
given to anyone else before.

He took her lips then, in an achingly slow, devastatingly thorough
kiss as he moved over her. Her weight stole her breath as she wrapped her legs
around his hips. A thousand bright shivers of expectation hovered between them
as he entered her, his warm, throbbing presence filling her fully. With slow,
deliberate thrusts, he moved within, coaxing a response from her. She arched
against him, meeting his thrusts, and gasped as each stroke that sent her
further and further into a space in time where only sensation and promise
existed.

That promise gathered momentum and overtook all else, until
an urgency born of flesh and fire and consuming desire burst within. His
thrusts came harder, deeper, faster. She moved with him, their bodies mingling
as they rushed headlong into the flood of sensations that surged through every
fiber of her being. She tightened her legs around him, pulling him closer,
never wanting to let go.

He plunged into her with a final thrust as deep as life and
breath could take him, and the world splintered into hot arcs of pleasure as
the promise was fulfilled. That moment of exquisite pleasure extended. Deep
within, her womb contracted, clutched, and held him, before satiation claimed
her and all her senses surrendered to glorious, drugging bliss.

They lay like that, a tangle of arms and legs, beating hearts
and ragged breathing as the world drifted down around them again.

He nestled against her. “Felicity, we are good together.”

His voice was deep and caressing. And the way he said her
name made it sound so beautiful. She had always hated the formal name her
parents had given her. But now hearing it from his lips, she loved it, loved
him.

She loved him fully, as any woman could love a man.

Felicity sat up, forcing Blake to relinquish his touch.
We are good
together.
The words echoed through her mind. She could not deny
she felt the same way. She was part of him now, just as he was part of her.
Nothing had ever seemed more natural than being in his arms, having his hands
caress her skin, having his lips on her lips.

But at what cost to her or to her employees? Did she love him
enough to give up the hotel and restaurant? Did she love him enough to
sacrifice the lives of every employee at the Bancroft Hotel? Did she love him
enough to put her father’s recovery at risk?

Even if she did, would she then resent him for denying her
those things? How would they ever build a relationship on that? Felicity drew a
steadying breath and turned to face him, looking into the startling blue depths
of his eyes. She had to ask the question, even though she feared his answer. “Where
does this leave us, Blake?” she asked, her voice raw.

He looked away, closing his emotions off to her. “You said to
let tomorrow take care of itself.”

“I did.”

“And you wish for something different now?”

“I want you and the Bancroft and security for my employees. I
want it all.”

He reached for her hands as a flicker of sadness crossed his
face. “I know about wanting it all, but neither of us can have that. Either you
or I have to change our minds about what we want from this hotel, and from each
other.” His features softened. “If you’re worried about taking care of your
father, I can help you.”

“Absolutely not,” Felicity burst out. “Please, Blake,” she
implored, realizing how ungrateful she must sound. “At least leave me some
pride. I can’t accept your money. I won’t be beholden to you, or anyone, in
that way.” She’d made it this far on her own.

He nodded and released her hands. “So where does that leave
us?” He echoed her question. “Right back where we started?”

“No, Blake,” she said softly. “We are both different now. I’m
stronger, and your heart is bigger than it used to be.”

“Felicity, I—” He stopped himself before he could continue.
Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re right,” he
said tenderly as he pulled her back into his arms and once again gathered her
against him. “Let’s wait and see what tomorrow brings.”

Tomorrow.
The word held both a hopeful and ominous tone. Moments ticked by as he looked
into her face, his eyes dark with promise. Then, as a slight smile curved his
lips, he bent his head and kissed her. It was an achingly slow, devastating
kiss that sent them right back to the bliss and forgetfulness they found in
each other.

Watery sunlight filled Felicity’s room at the Bancroft
Hotel the next morning. As she woke, she rolled over to find Blake was gone.
Fumbling for the clock by the bedside, she was alarmed to see it was almost
eight o’clock. She shook off the sensual miasma that still lingered deep inside
her from their lovemaking last night and got out of bed. After checking in with
Hans to find he had everything covered for the restaurant, she took a quick
shower, then got dressed.

Entering the sitting room of the suite, she found her father
in a chair by the window. She was thrilled to see he’d moved himself from the
bed to the chair. The procedure on his brain was definitely causing changes to
occur. “Good morning, Dad,” she said cheerfully as she kissed him on the cheek.

At her approach, he turned to her with clear eyes and a
smile. He remained quiet. He’d said nothing more than that single word two days
ago. But that one word was enough for her to see him as the father she used to
know instead of the stranger who had taken his place years ago.

“I’ve arranged for your therapist to meet you here today, and
I’ve hired a nurse to stay with you while I take care of some business.” She’d
had to use the rest of her savings to do so, but that had covered the expenses
for the next two weeks—plenty of time for her and Blake to determine the fate
of the Bancroft Hotel.

Since Hans had things covered at the Dolce Vita, Felicity
decided to check in with the Seattle Historic Preservation Program to find out
where her petition was in the process. She could call the lawyers and have them
check in for her, but she felt like doing something herself. Action always made
her feel more in control of her goals. But before she headed there, she needed
a cup of coffee. She would have preferred a cup from the Starbucks on the
corner, but a quick glance outside from the lobby told her the local reporters
were still there, waiting for, as Destiny put it last night, “something to
happen.”

If she wanted coffee, she’d have to get some downstairs with
the rest of the hotel staff. Taking the elevator to the ground floor, she
headed for the staff break room. The gathering place was unusually quiet for
this time of the morning when all the housekeeping and restaurant staff seemed
to congregate in the same place.

The smell of burnt French roast coffee wafted through the
room. The tables were empty, their cheap tan-colored plastic surfaces littered
with only a few earthenware mugs with black coffee stains around the rim.
Felicity smiled. Her employees were not unlike so many other Seattleites who
loved their morning brew.

Hans sat alone at the back of the room reading the
Seattle
Gazette
. As soon as he saw her, he hurriedly folded the paper and
tossed it onto the table. “Felicity,” he greeted. “What brings you down here?”

The headline on the front page jumped up at Felicity.

Billionaire and Lover Questioned in Assault

Below the headline were two separate articles and two
pictures. One of the pictures was of Blake being escorted through the lobby by
the police. The other was of her pressed intimately against Blake, wearing
nothing but his shirt.

Mechanically, she reached for the paper.

“You haven’t read the newspaper this morning?” Hans asked,
attempting to snatch the paper away.

Felicity avoided his grasp. “No, I haven’t.”

Hans grew silent, suddenly nervous. The slow, soft whirring
of their breath became the only sound in the room.

She looked down at the byline at the top of each article: “Story
by Destiny Carrow.” Obviously that was what Destiny had done when she’d gone
back to the
Seattle
Gazette
’s offices last night.

A knot of fear tightened Felicity’s stomach. And she knew the
color had seeped out of her cheeks as she read the article about Blake first.
It contained a great deal of lurid speculation about why he was questioned for
the assault of a photographer that still remained unconscious at Harborview.
Destiny didn’t outright accuse him of the crime, but she might just as well
have, considering the conjecture she’d used in the article.

But there was one paragraph in the article that chilled
Felicity to the core. Destiny described an argument Blake had had with his
father the day before his parents died. She described the scene with the coins.
His father’s concussion. The coroner’s report, stating the cause of the
accident might have been due to that very concussion.

He’d told no one but her about that incident.

So how had Destiny found out?

“Oh my God,” Felicity said in a strained voice. He’d think
she told her onetime friend.

“It will blow over,” Hans replied.

No, she doubted it very much. Blake would hate her for this,
regardless of her innocence. “People will believe the worst, before they seek
the truth about a man as rich as Blake.”

Almost afraid of what she’d find in the article about her,
Felicity started reading. When she was through, it was no longer fear, but
anger that made her fingers tremble. Destiny had claimed she’d wanted to be a
serious journalist. If that were the case, these articles were a poor example
of her skill.

The second article not only exposed Felicity’s impoverished
beginnings, but it painted her as a desperate woman, willing to do whatever it
took to climb her way up the social ladder. In the pictures accompanying the
article, she did look like a social climber aboard the fancy yacht. Hysterical
laughter bubbled up in Felicity’s throat. She clamped her teeth together to keep
the sound from slipping past.

She and Blake had both been played for fools. Before she
could launch into a tirade, her cell phone rang. A look at the screen told her
it was Blake.

“Hello?”

“Have you seen today’s newspaper?” he asked. His tone was
flat, but not accusing.

“Yes,” she said hesitantly.

“Where are you?”

“At the hotel.”

“Stay there. I’m sending Peter to get you. Meet him in the
back alley behind the kitchen.”

Before she could agree or object, he hung up.

“I’m sorry, Felicity,” Hans said softly in the silence that
followed. “I had no idea about your past.”

The pity in Hans’s voice hit her like a fist to the gut. Hot
tears stung her eyes. She dashed the tears away with the back of her hand. “Don’t
pity me, Hans. I worked hard to leave that past behind.” She made her way
toward the door, her need for coffee forgotten.

“And you have.” The sous-chef stood, blocking her way before
she reached the door. “No one here who reads the article about you will be
anything but proud of what you’ve overcome. In fact, it explains why you’re so
passionate about your Hungry Hearts program.”

Felicity shifted her gaze to the wall, trying to gather
herself.

“Are you okay, Felicity?” Hans asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, forcing her chin up and squaring her
shoulders. “Will you cover the restaurant tonight?”

“Of course,” Hans replied. “If there’s anything else I can do—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Felicity moved past him.
She clenched the newspaper in her hands as she kept moving toward the hotel’s
lobby. Five days ago she had been the happiest she’d ever been in her life.
Vern had given her the greatest gift she’d ever received. After years and years
of scraping by, of sacrificing, she finally had something that could give both
herself and her father the future she’d always dreamed of.

Her gaze drifted to the picture of her and Blake. She’d been
so happy in that moment, too—wrapped in his arms, with nothing between them but
their mutual attraction. Or so she’d thought.

Felicity turned the paper over, hiding the picture of her and
Blake from her view as she made her way to the alley. Vicious lies and
grotesque innuendos—that was Destiny’s idea of what it took to get ahead in the
newspaper business? Perhaps in the tabloids.

Raking her hair back from her forehead with her fingers,
Felicity tried to consider what to do. Surely Blake had a plan. That’s why he’d
sent for her, wasn’t it?

She paced the back alley for fifteen minutes until Peter
arrived. After a short car ride through Seattle, they arrived at the Columbia Center
off Fifth Avenue.

“I’ll let you out here,” Peter said, stopping in the loading
zone in front of the skyscraper. “Blake’s waiting for you in his attorneys’
office on the sixty-third floor.”

Felicity knew the moment she saw Blake that
something was different. The gentle man who’d held her in his arms last night
was nowhere in sight. He stood, as did the man at his side, when she was
ushered into an elaborately appointed meeting room with a highly polished
mahogany table in the center of the room.

“I’m glad you could join us,” Blake said, motioning for her
to sit in the chair opposite the handsome older man next to him. “Felicity,
this is my lead counsel, Marcus Grady. Marcus, Felicity Wright.” His voice was
pleasant enough, but his face gave no hint of his mood or emotions.

Marcus greeted her, his dark eyes assessing. At a nod from
Blake, he removed a sheet of paper from the stack before him and slid it across
the table to her. It was a newspaper article from a paper many years ago with
the same picture he’d showed her of his grandfather and Byrne Fairfax, Reid’s
grandfather.

“Byrne was my grandfather’s partner. He was removed from the
board of trustees by my grandfather and fired from what was then called B&F
Industries. The minutes from the trustee meetings report that they could prove he
had embezzled more than a million dollars from the company. Back in the forties
that was a lot of money.”

“It’s a lot of money even now,” Felicity said, realizing her
perspective and Blake’s were radically different.

Blake and Marcus shared a glance she didn’t understand, but before
she could question them, Marcus continued. “We found a witness who is willing
to testify that Reid was the one who assaulted Jack O’Conner. The police are on
their way to arrest Reid right now.”

“Why would Reid try to blame you for the crime?” she asked,
but she already knew. Destiny had reported in her article that this wasn’t the
first time Blake had been questioned by the police. Once he’d had to fight off
an intruder in his hotel room, another time he’d been attacked as he stepped
out of his car. Both times, the attackers were found beaten in an alleyway.
Jack O’Conner was Reid’s third attempt to ruin Blake’s reputation. Although
this time, with Destiny’s help, he’d taken it further than ever before by
exposing Blake’s fear that he’d caused his parents’ deaths and painting a
picture of him for the world of an angry and violent man.

Felicity’s heart hammered wildly in her chest as she tried to
capture Blake’s eyes. He kept his gaze averted. “You don’t think I had anything
to do with this, do you?” she asked in a pained voice.

He stiffened at the question, and, when he brought his eyes
to hers, she could feel this unspoken accusation like a knife to her heart.

In silent protest, she shook her head and stood, coming
around the table toward him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned softly.

She stopped cold, her mind registering the physical threat in
his voice, refusing to believe it, her gaze searching his granite features.

“Blake,” she began, trying to formulate an explanation, but
the words died before they were spoken, frozen by the blast of contempt in his
eyes.

He was closing himself off again, protecting himself from
being hurt. It didn’t matter if she was innocent or guilty, he didn’t care.
He’d already locked her out of his heart in an effort to stop himself from
feeling any more pain.

“I love you,” she continued bravely, putting her own emotions
out there for him to see. “You have to listen to me.”

“No, I don’t,” he said icily. “We had a business arrangement
that is now concluded. I trusted you with intimate details of my life, and you
used them against me.”

Felicity shook her head. “That’s not true. I—”

“It was you and me in the rooftop garden, Felicity. No one
else. You told me you’d do anything at all to make sure you kept the Bancroft.
I should have believed you.”

Felicity swallowed roughly at the look of betrayal in Blake’s
hard blue eyes. “I would never do anything to hurt you like that, Blake. You have
to know that.”

“I don’t know anything when it comes to you and me, other
than that you want something that isn’t yours. If you won’t willingly give it
up, then it’s time for me to take it from you. Marcus, you’re up.”

The older man’s dark eyes filled with remorse as he slid a
packet of papers toward her. “Felicity Wright, Blake Bancroft is serving you
with papers . . .” Marcus continued, but the words he spoke jumbled together in
her brain. The room swam before her eyes as she blindly felt for a chair, then
dropped into it, suddenly boneless.