Authors: Carrie Alexander
T
HE ELEVATOR RIDE
was tense. Kyle was silent until they’d reached the lobby. Only then did he say, in a tightly wound voice, “Why did you call Denver? Did you leave him the same message?”
Despite the hotel’s air-conditioning, nervous humidity rose off Alice’s skin. She might look guilty, she might feel guilty, but she was innocent. Practically. “It’s not what you think,” she said as the doors slid open.
“When it comes to my brother, it’s usually worse than I think.” Kyle put out a flat palm, standing aside for her to get off first. Controlled and gentlemanly above all.
She didn’t budge. “But this is me.”
His expression was remote. “How well do I know you?”
“Better than that, I hope.”
“If you’d run into Denver, instead of me, would he be getting lucky right now?”
“No! I did call him to, well, accept his invitation to the moonlight trail ride. But it wasn’t going to be a date. It’s a group thing. He only asked me because he’s supposed to.”
Kyle snorted. “Right.” He took her by the arm, his fingers like a vise, and escorted her from the elevator. “If I got first dibs, that means my brother was the back
up date.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what you see in him.”
“It’s never occurred to you that there might be some ways you two are alike?”
“Hell, no.”
“Two sides of the same coin. There’s something intriguing about Denver’s attitude. Devil-may-care. I’ve never been that way.”
“Yeah? Trust me, you’d have a different opinion if you experienced the lifestyle up close.”
“That may be. But I’d like the chance to find out on my own.” That didn’t come out the way she meant it. Her attraction to Denver was about taking a short walk on the wild side. There were no romantic intentions. But he was fascinating.
Like Kyle.
He was giving her a long measuring look. She was certain she hadn’t met his standards. He stepped away. “Good luck, then.”
“Wait,” she said.
Across the lobby, a woman called, “Kyle Jarreau!”
He swung away from Alice to greet the Amazon charging toward him. “Bettina Brown.”
They exchanged a brisk hug. “It’s Mrs. Probst now, off the job. I married Emery.”
“At last.”
“We did it in Vegas with an Elvis impersonator officiating. Delightfully tacky.” The woman was nearly Kyle’s height and weight, dressed in jeans and a dashiki with chunky Navajo jewelry. Her eyeglass frames were Donna Karan. “
Extremely
impolitic for the magazine. But I just couldn’t face the thought of what twenty yards of silk organza would do to my body. Come meet the gang.”
Kyle hung back. “First, let me introduce you two. Alice, this is Bettina Brown, managing editor of
Southwest Bride.
They frequently stage photo shoots at the resort.”
“Only because you’re so adorable,” the woman said, looking as if she’d like to pinch Kyle’s cheek.
He smiled fondly. “Bettina, Alice Potter. She’s a guest here.”
“Oh. A guest.” Bettina looked Alice up and down. “I was hoping she was a girlfriend, but I should have known—”
“Known what?” Alice had discovered that blurting out the thoughts she’d normally kept to herself often produced interesting results. Also humiliating. But she no longer cared.
The editor laughed gaily. “This fella, he’s a slippery one.” She patted Kyle’s chest. “Just ask Jenna.”
“She’s here?” he asked warily.
“Afraid so.”
“Great. Thanks a lot.”
“You’re both adults. Deal with it.” Bettina pulled Kyle along. “Now come with me and say hello to the crew like a good boy before the entire lot of them are quaffing beer in the bar.”
Alice hovered nearby, even though Kyle appeared to have forgotten her again. Blurting might serve its purposes, but being invisible was also beneficial. She’d learned many of the facts of life by hovering. The truth about Santa Claus. Her mother’s early diagnosis, which she’d tried to keep secret. How her students, with the wit of ten-year-olds, had called her Miss Potty. That Stewart hadn’t always been researching at the library like he said.
The
Southwest Bride
contingent included a number
of scruffy people, several suit wearers and half a dozen models. The models were easy to spot. They seemed twice as tall and twice as skinny as everyone else. Their dress varied from jeans and T-shirts to one sleek platinum blonde’s tight black skirt and a camisole that exposed clavicles sharp enough to slice a tin can.
She, of course, turned out to be Jenna. Alice could tell by the way she looked at Kyle when he wasn’t looking at her. Her demeanor was elegant but offputting, at least to Alice, especially after she overheard the model requesting blackout blinds, a dozen Diptyque candles and a bee-pollen shake to be sent to her room immediately.
If that’s the kind of woman he prefers, I’ve got my answer.
Alice walked away, sure that no one would notice her leave. Or care. She felt indulgently maudlin.
Kyle caught her at the door. “Wait a minute. I’m sorry about that. They’re important clients. We don’t get many large parties booking rooms in the off-season. Accommodating them is paramount.”
“You don’t have to explain. It’s your job.”
He stood at the top of the steps with his hands in his pockets. A soft breeze blew along the front of the building, stirring the palms. “You’re not like other women, are you?”
Was she supposed to agree? “I suppose I’m not.” She nodded toward the lobby. “Compared with them.”
“It’s a compliment.”
“I’m sure.”
“You’re unpretentious. You don’t do the passive-aggressive thing.”
“Like Jenna?” Alice’s mouth tasted like foil. “You
were involved with her, right? So you must have some appreciation for her behavior. Or did you just put up with it in exchange for smoking-hot arm candy?” She didn’t know how she managed to sound angry and discouraged at the same time.
“Jenna’s not as bad as that. She’s actually pretty easy to get along with.”
“Wonderful. Then it must have been your other women you were comparing me with.”
“Isn’t your moonlight trail ride the same thing?” Kyle glanced at the doorman. “Erase that. Let’s not go over it again.”
Alice went down the steps. Now she knew, without a doubt. She didn’t measure up. Again.
“Fine, if you’ll do me a favor,” she said. “Erase everything I said tonight.
Everything.
”
Kyle had followed her. “Does that include your date with Denver?”
“Ah, yes, Denver.” She tried to act like she cared, that she was cavalier enough to keep two men on a string. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it right off. I’m unpretentious Alice. Cowboys are more my speed.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t usually get angry like this. I’m on holiday. I should be having fun.”
“Yes, you should. That’s what I want for you, Alice. I just can’t give it to you.” He cleared his throat. “Not personally.”
She smiled blindingly. “Never mind. I have other plans.”
“Don’t do it, Alice,” Kyle called after her. “He’s not the man for you.”
She knew that, but there wasn’t enough money in the
world to pay her to admit it. Kyle might not see it, but she did: of the two brothers, Denver was her safer bet. With him, she was risking nothing.
Too bad safety was no longer her preferred choice.
T
HE GROUP HAD
scattered by the time Kyle returned to the lobby. He stopped and spoke briefly with the new concierge, who’d done the check-in with impressive efficiency. Tomorrow there’d be an employee assigned to coordinate and facilitate the shoot. From previous experience, Kyle knew that anything could—and probably would—happen when it came to a bunch of creative professionals, but he was satisfied that the staff was as prepared as possible.
All that should have soothed him.
It didn’t of course, and he knew why. The thing with Alice.
Alice and
Denver.
She’d left so quickly that he hadn’t had a chance to work on damage control.
If
that was what he wanted. There’d been a moment when tossing aside everything he’d worked for up to now had seemed possible. Logically, objectively, he knew the smart choice would be to leave things as they were.
Which left him unsettled, but at a standstill.
He stared at the elevator, his mind going back and forth with the opening and closing doors. The buttons lit, then blinked out. Up. Down. A simple choice.
Jenna glided over to him. Quite an accomplishment in three-inch heels that made them the same height. “What’s wrong with you, Kyle?” She pouted. “You didn’t even say hello.”
“There wasn’t a chance. You were avoiding me.” He
looked directly into her eyes and felt nothing. He only hoped their breakup would continue as their relationship had: with no complications. “Hello. It’s nice to see you again. You’re looking well.”
“How formal we are,” she murmured. The elevator opened and she stepped inside, giving him one of her sultry smiles. “Going up?”
He could have made some excuse, but there was no reason for it. He stepped in.
After a short silence, Jenna shivered. “Brr. This place is an icebox.”
She was the type to use that to her advantage, curling up to a man, batting her big eyes and stroking the guy’s ego for taking such good care of her. In truth, she was no airhead; she managed her own stock portfolio and had plotted her career years in advance, preparing for the day she’d be too old to model. She claimed to be twenty-six. He’d always thought she was thirty at least. For a time, her poise and intelligence had made up for her lack of warmth.
He gave her his sports coat and she made a small purring sound as she slipped it around her shoulders. “You were always thoughtful, I’ll give you that. There are times I wonder why I let you go.”
They’d let each other go. Business trips and conflicting schedules had become more important than making time for each other. “We drifted apart,” he said.
Jenna lifted her shoulders beneath the coat. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
“What do
you
call it?” He honestly wanted to know. He was curious.
“My God, Kyle. You’re positively oblivious.” She laughed without much humor, and her eyes glittered.
“You still don’t realize that if you’d shown even the tiniest inclination toward a commitment, I would have been willing.”
He couldn’t say anything. Not once had he picked up those signals from her. “But you never…”
The elevator arrived at the third floor. Jenna gave him her patrician profile. “I don’t chase men. They chase me.” She got out. She wore an expression she’d never shown before—regret. Possibly even vulnerability.
He held the door, speechless.
“You never chased me,” she said, almost as forlorn as Alice had sounded out on the steps. “I was barely a part of your life. I never met your family. You always held me at arm’s length.” Her expression hardened. “And so I decided I deserved better.”
“You do,” he agreed, feeling guilty for the first time over his lack of generosity. He hadn’t even realized she wanted any of those things. “I’ve always wished you nothing but happiness.”
That was the wrong thing to say. “Did you even notice when I was no longer around?” she asked, the words laced with anger.
“Sure I did.” After about three weeks.
Jenna stared at him. “What about Miss Muffet in the lobby? Does she knew how fast you’ll drop her?” Her lips twitched. “Maybe I should do her a favor and seduce you away.”
Kyle was astonished. Had this entire conversation been about rekindling their romance? “Spite doesn’t look good on you, Jenna.”
“Spite? I’d call it a kindness.” She walked away, her hips swaying. “If the mood strikes, I’m in 327.”
The woman was as mockingly, aggravatingly attrac
tive as ever, but Kyle was no longer interested. The elevator doors shut to the firm “no, thank you” in his head.
He let out a short laugh. What was wrong with this picture? Two propositions in one night and he was going to his suite alone. Gavin would call him an idiot. And he would be right.
I
T WASN’T ONLY
the hikes and rides that took it out of you, Alice reflected as she reached the condo door. She hadn’t accounted for the psychological toll of change. Or the frustration of taking two steps forward and one step back.
The sight of a bunch of flowers on her doorstep swept the gloom out of her like a clean fresh wind. She smiled as she picked them up. Lavender, poppies, desert marigold, sunflowers—a random assortment with no nod to color or form. They’d been stuck into a plastic cup with an inch of yellowish water she suspected was melted ice. But the inelegance of the presentation did not erase the charm.
A note had been left under the cup, written on the back of a gas receipt. But not really a note at all, just a short lyric from the song “Go Ask Alice.” What a goofball.