Kristi Gold - Hotel Marchand 04 (3 page)

“Adam’s mother—my sister, Trish—and Trish’s new husband, Craig. They’re on their honeymoon right now.”

“Then Craig’s not Adam’s biological father?”

“Adam’s dad was a stuntman who died before Adam was born, during a shoot.” During one of Pete’s shoots, more fodder for his guilt. “Sean was good at what he did, but he took a helluva lot of risks.”

“Sean Turnbow,” she said. “I remember when he was killed during your movie. But I had no idea he was married to your sister. In fact, I didn’t even know you had a sister.”

Very few people knew about Patricia, and Pete had worked hard to keep it that way over the years. “They weren’t married, but they planned to be as soon as the film wrapped.”

Renee sighed. “I can only imagine how difficult that must have been for her, raising a child alone.”

She had no idea the extent of Trish’s struggle to recover from Sean’s death. No one did, aside from him. “Yeah, it was tough. I helped out whenever I could.” But not nearly enough in the beginning. If he had, then maybe he could have prevented the events that had led him to break his contract with Renee’s studio, and in turn, forced his break with Renee.

The waiter appeared with the champagne, providing Pete with the opportunity to leave the subject of his sister behind before he had to answer more questions. After Anson walked away again, Pete held his glass up and said, “To renewing old acquaintances.”

Renee touched her glass to his. “I suppose I could drink to that.”

Pete took a quick swallow of champagne and tried not to choke. In reality, he hated the stuff. It always reminded him of after-award parties and requisite ass-kissing. If he consumed alcohol at all, which he didn’t do too often for many reasons, he preferred a good lager.

He set the glass aside and again leaned back in his chair. “Before you came in, I looked over the menu and noticed you have a dessert named after you.”

Her expression softened. “My father named one after all four of his daughters as a tribute. He was a remarkable man.”

“Was?”

“He died a few years ago in an accident.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And he was. He’d lost his own father when he was a teenager, much too soon.

Determined to move off any subject that involved sadness, he returned to a topic that he hoped would answer a burning question. “I also read the restaurant’s history on the back of the menu. I noticed it still lists you as a producer in Hollywood. Does that mean you plan to go back to California some day?”

“No.” She took a long drink of the wine. “That means I need to have the menus updated.”

He could see a touch of remorse in her expression before she expertly hid it. “You’re going to just toss away a career years in the making?” he asked.

“My career is with the hotel now. My mother had a health scare a few months ago, around the time of the studio’s takeover. When I was released from my job, I decided that fate was telling me I needed to be home, so here I am. And I’m happy to be here.”

Pete noted a slight falseness in her tone. “Then you’re saying you don’t miss the business at all?”

She shrugged. “I haven’t had time to miss it. We’re planning an extensive renovation here soon, and we need to compete with the marketplace in terms of promotion, especially while the rebuilding efforts are still going on in the city. And that’s where I come in.”

She sounded as if she might be trying to convince herself as well as him. “If you say so. I know that once show business has worked its way into your blood, it’s hard to find a cure for it. And there’s nothing quite like being immersed in the excitement of L.A.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you like traffic jams and smog. I’m leasing a very nice loft apartment in the Warehouse District with an option to buy, and it’s bigger than anything I could have afforded in L.A. Because it’s so close to the hotel, I don’t really need a car. In fact, I don’t even own one.”

That went beyond Pete’s comprehension. He owned three cars, and two of them were classics. “Then how do you get around?”

“I ride the trolley.”

Funny, he didn’t see Renee as the public transportation type. But then, she’d surprised him several times in the past. Once more, his mind tried to drag him back to that night, and through sheer will, he avoided those images. “I’d like to see your apartment before I leave.” And he’d like to see more of her. A lot more.

She took another sip of champagne but continued to grip the flute as if it were a lifeline. “Maybe at some point in time.”

“Tonight?” Damn, he sounded too hopeful.

“I have to be up early in the morning.”

Pete started to counter that with some comment about making sure she was up on time, but then he remembered he had to be responsible for Adam, and that meant getting back to the suite at a decent hour.

Of course, he sure as hell didn’t expect to take up where they left off so soon, but he didn’t intend to let a solid opportunity pass him by. After all, she’d said “maybe” to his request. Maybe was good. Maybe wasn’t a “no.”

And just maybe he’d find some way to see her apartment tonight, before she demanded he leave her alone for good.

S
HE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN
he wasn’t going to let her go that easily. She should have been suspicious when he’d readily accepted her excuse that she had some work to do before she went home, then left her with only a quick goodbye. She should have seen it coming.

Right now Renee could only see Pete kicked back against the cab parked curbside near the hotel’s entry, arms folded across his chest, a woman-withering smile on his gorgeous face. He’d swapped his navy sport coat for a tan all-weather jacket, his dress slacks for a pair of nicely faded jeans, and his loafers for the heavy lace-up boots he’d been wearing the last time they were together. The boots that had rested helter-skelter on the floor at the end of her bed, along with their clothes.

She needed to remember one important thing. Pete Traynor should be avoided. The man was charismatic to a fault, an actress-magnet extraordinaire and he’d kept time with several. But not in the past few years, something Renee had monitored through the grapevine even though she’d despised herself for doing it.

But that didn’t matter. She had no intention of getting into that taxi with him. She intended to bid him good-night—again—and head home
alone
.

When she moved onto the sidewalk, he pushed away from the cab and opened the door. “After you.”

She stopped dead, as if some unknown force had stapled her heels to the pavement. “Might I ask why you’re here and not in your room with your nephew?”

“Adam’s asleep, Ella and Evan are there, and I decided to make sure you get home safely.”

Why did almost every man she’d ever known believe she couldn’t take care of herself? Blond didn’t translate into dim-witted and helpless, although she had been somewhat powerless around Pete on occasion. “Thank you, but I’m quite capable of getting home all by myself, as I do every day of the week.”

He raised his hands, palms forward in surrender. “Okay, I admit it. I want to see where you live. This might be my only opportunity since I have to keep Adam entertained for the next few days. Not to mention I need to scout a few locations.”

Obstinate man. “Pete—”

“No expectations. Just a quick look around your apartment, then I’ll go.”

Renee bordered on telling him no, and not because she didn’t necessarily trust him. She didn’t exactly trust herself to be alone with him. But as long as she kept the bedroom off the tour, she should be fine. “Okay, but you can’t stay long because I have to—”

“Be up early. I know.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the backseat. “The meter’s running.”

“Is that your meter or the cab’s?” She regretted the question the moment his grin appeared and took hold of her.

“I have a feeling if I don’t say it’s the cab’s, you’re not going to get in there with me.”

“You would be right.” Even though testing his meter was really, really tempting.

“Okay, it’s the cab’s meter,” he said. “Mine’s on standby.”

She laid a dramatic hand above her heart. “I hope you’re not suffering from a meter malfunction.”

“I’ve already told you everything about me is working at optimum levels. But if you’re looking for proof—”

“No, I am not.”

“Then please get into the cab before I have to sell stock to pay the fare.”

She released an exaggerated sigh. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”

Once they were settled in the backseat, Renee kept a decent distance between them without hugging the door. She didn’t want to be too obvious in her attempts to avoid getting too close to him. Didn’t want Pete to know how difficult it was for her to be around him, especially when she remembered their last cab ride together in L.A., when he’d rested his hand on her knee, drawing slow, deliberate circles until she’d thought she might tackle him where he’d sat. He’d done nothing more than that, but it had been enough to send them down a path that neither had any business traveling.

As the taxi driver navigated the crowded Friday night streets, Renee spent the short drive answering Pete’s queries about specific sites and the continuing reconstruction after the flooding. She had a lot she wanted to say to him, but she wasn’t sure if she needed to get into that tonight. She had enough on her plate with the hotel; she didn’t need any hassles in her personal life. Not that she’d had much of a personal life for the past few months. For the past few years, if the truth were known. And that was one truth she wasn’t about to divulge to Pete.

By the time they pulled up in front of the renovated warehouse, Renee decided that she didn’t have the time, or the energy, to rehash the past with Pete tonight. Besides, that would only encourage him to stay longer.

She slid out of the car while Pete paid the driver. When he sent the cab on its way, she could only stare at him in disbelief. “You should have asked him to wait for you.”

“I didn’t think about it.” He tried for an innocent look, and failed. Nothing about Pete Traynor was innocent, particularly those lethal, brown eyes. “I can call another cab, unless you don’t have a phone.”

“Of course I have a phone.” And she had an urge to kiss that try-and-resist me grin right off his face. An urge she ignored, at least for now.

After they entered the octagonal foyer, Renee greeted the twentysomething security guard seated behind the corner desk.

“Good evening, Ms. Marchand,” he said before his expression brightened like a halogen bulb when he caught site of Pete. “Oh, man. Aren’t you the guy who directed
Hot Wired?
”

Pete looked appropriately humble as he extended his hand. “Pete Traynor.”

“Donny Jones.” The guard gave him a two-handed shake and held on a little longer than necessary. “I love that movie. In fact, I own the DVD. I’ve watched it at least a dozen times and it still scares the bejeezus out of me.”

“Glad you liked it.”

Donny shook his head. “Man, my friends are not going to believe this. Can I have your autograph?” he added as he rummaged in the desk drawer.

“Why don’t you catch him on the way out,” Renee said, fearing they might never get away. “I’ll send him down with a piece of paper.”

“Sure thing, Ms. Marchand.” He winked at Pete. “Guess you two have more pressing business at the moment.”

Pete had the nerve to lay his palm possessively against the small of Renee’s back. “That we do, Donny. Have a good night.”

Renee gritted her teeth and resisted spewing out a litany of explanations for Pete’s visit to her apartment, and a few curses aimed at Pete’s unmitigated gall as an added bonus. With her luck, she’d probably awake to find a nice little write-up in the society page describing in detail her tryst with the director. But not if she sent Pete away quickly, which was exactly what she planned to do.

For that reason, she walked at a fast clip with Pete following close on her heels until she reached the elevator.

Elevator…

While they waited for the car to arrive, neither of them spoke, and Renee wondered if he was remembering, too. Probably not. She could only imagine how many women he’d seduced in an elevator. But she didn’t want to imagine it. She didn’t want to think about that at all.

When the doors sighed open a few minutes later, Renee rushed inside and pressed the button. Again silence prevailed, until Pete said, “You know, the last time we were in this position—”

“Don’t say it.”

“Fine. I won’t say it, but don’t expect me to forget it. And don’t try to convince me that you don’t remember, because I know you do.”

Renee hadn’t forgotten one detail. Not one. Immediately after they’d approved the final script, she’d invited him to her Santa Monica condominium for a celebratory drink. On that particular night, they, too, had been alone in an elevator much larger than the one they were in now. He’d had his back to the door, facing her, that same breath-catching smile on his face. But then, they’d both had a lot to smile about.

She recalled exactly what she’d said to him on their ascent—
It’s really going to happen
. And remembered his response as if he’d only said it a few moments before.
Yeah, it definitely is.
Then he’d backed her against the mirrored wall and kissed her. Every meeting they’d had to that point, every quiet dinner they’d shared while discussing the film, every round of lighthearted banter, had led to that moment. And that kiss had led straight to her bedroom, without ceremony. Without having that drink or even bothering to completely undress until later.

Even now, Renee was tuned into everything about Pete, from the faint scent of his cologne to the slightest shift of his weight. She fought the return of that craving, that soul-deep desire she’d felt so keenly that night.

By the time the doors opened, Renee was balanced on a jagged edge, knowing that in a matter of seconds, they would be alone in her apartment while she tried to maintain a tenuous hold on her control. If he even made one move toward her, she might forget they had enough garbage between them to populate a landfill.

When they reached her corner apartment, it took two attempts for Renee to trip the lock and several to will away the craving to turn around and move as easily into his arms as she had three years before. Déjà vu could be deadly.

If Pete had noticed her nervousness, he didn’t let on when she opened the door and they entered the foyer. He moved beside her and stated, “Very nice,” in the calm, collected tone that she’d seen him utilize before, even during the toughest situations.

Straight ahead, the angled foyer opened into a large and lengthy living room with white slate tiles, high ceilings and a gray marble corner fireplace. Even after living there for the past few months, the dramatic scene still took Renee’s breath. “The first time I saw it, I knew I had to have it.”

“I know what you mean.”

Renee glanced at Pete to find him staring at her. Determined to ignore his assessment, she dropped her keys on the chrome table set against the wall to her right and opted not to remove her all-weather coat. Getting too comfortable might give Pete the wrong idea, namely that she expected him to stay more than a few minutes.

Leaving him behind, she strode into the living room and pointed to her left. “Guest bedroom and bath down that hall.” She gestured to her right. “Kitchen and dining room over there. The doors open onto a veranda.”

“Where’s your bedroom?” came from behind her.

Not at all an unexpected question, but one Renee intended to gloss over. She turned and faced him, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle as if that could actually provide some charm armor. “Beyond the kitchen, away from the main living areas.”

He strolled around the area, his hands in his jacket pockets. “It’s a lot bigger than I expected.”

Not quite big enough for the both of them, as far as Renee was concerned. She walked to the window and pulled back the louvered blinds with a jerk of the cord. “As you can see, I have a nice view of the city.”

While she kept her back to Pete, a weighty silence ensued as if what needed to be said hung over them like a stifling blanket. Although she’d originally wanted to avoid digging up the dirt, Renee had the prime opportunity to question him in detail about his departure. But to what end? Nothing had changed, and that was the worst part.
He
hadn’t changed.

“Just do it, Renee.”

She sent him a fleeting look over one shoulder before turning her attention back to the panorama she’d seen at least a hundred times. “Do what?”

“Yell at me. Curse me. Hell, you can even throw something if it makes you feel better.”

She faced him again, slowly. “Are you looking for absolution, Pete? If so, I forgive you.”

“But you won’t forget it, will you?”

She released a mirthless laugh. “Do you mean forget that you were instrumental in my losing respect and in turn, losing my job?”

“I don’t understand that. You made your movie and it was a critical success.”

He made it sound so simple, when it had been anything but. “Critical success, yes, but not a commercial success. When Garnett-Mason took over, they only cared about the bottom line. And the bottom line was my inability to keep you on the project.”

“My leaving had nothing to do with you.”

“Really? I don’t remember the exact wording of the clause that released you from the contract, but I do remember it had something to do with finding it intolerable to work with me.”

“The attorneys chose to handle it in that matter in order to avoid an exorbitant settlement.”

“I see. This had to do with money.” She fisted her hands at her sides. “The cost for me was incredibly high. But then, I should have known that was a possibility when you ended up in my bed.”

His anger showed in the steel set of his jaw. “Do you think that’s what this was about, Renee? Our sleeping together?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Hell, no. If I could have stayed on to direct, we would have handled that aspect. The reasons I left were personal and valid. And because of the possible litigation, I couldn’t tell you about it back then.”

“Then tell me now.”

He swiped a hand over the back of his neck, and when he looked up at her, she saw something akin to remorse in his eyes. “I wanted to call you over the past few years and explain. I wanted to tell you more times than I can count. But I wasn’t sure you’d talk to me, and even if you did, I didn’t believe you’d understand. I’m still not sure you would.”

“What makes you think that?”

He took a step forward. “Do you remember that night when I tried to tell you about my divorce, you stopped me and said you didn’t want to get into anything too personal? And do you remember what you said to me the morning before I left your place?”

Yes, she remembered everything about that morning after. Right down to their lovemaking, which ended shortly before dawn. “It was a long time ago, Pete.”

“Then let me jar your memory. You told me our sleeping together was a mistake. You said it wouldn’t happen again, and from that point forward, we’d only discuss business and behave professionally.” He managed another step. “I regret how it ended, but I’ve never regretted the time we spent together, or that night. I never will.”