A Not-So-Innocent Seduction

Eleven


Liam didn’t particularly like tea. Even so, he found his way to the parlor at 4:10 determined to let Zoe see that she wasn’t calling the shots. To his dismay, once he finally entered the room, he saw her surrounded by a bevy of admirers. He decided not to fight the crowd, and instead, worked the room, conversing with guests and generally making sure his presence was known and appreciated.

In upscale hospitality, as in most things, the personal touch was what made a business stand out from the competition. Many of the people in this room were repeat bookings. Liam kept tabs on every aspect of the hotel’s services, from the most mundane detail to the most outrageously expensive special request.

Though he had come to his mother’s aid originally out of necessity, in the intervening years, he had discovered that he enjoyed making people feel at home in Silver Glen and welcome at the Silver Beeches Lodge. He wasn’t the kind of man who would enjoy idle time spent on yachts or in casinos. This life at the Lodge had perhaps chosen him and not the other way around, but it was a good match for his set of skills, and it was different every day. He enjoyed the challenges.

Zoe met his gaze across the room at least twice before she finally dismissed her contingent and crooked a finger. It was a small matter of pride and control that Liam lingered a couple more minutes in another conversation before crossing the expensive carpet and stopping in front of the woman who was rapidly driving him out of his wits.

She patted the seat beside her. The particular item of furniture upon which she sat was an antique love seat with a carved wooden frame and plump, red-velvet upholstered cushions. Zoe reclined against the arm comfortably, one foot tucked beneath her. Her short and sassy madras skirt would have been more suited to the tropics, but on Zoe, it worked. The short-sleeved jersey knit T-shirt in a shade of teal that matched one of the stripes in the skirt was modest. But it clung to her breasts in a way that made it impossible for him to ignore her sexuality.

Sitting down beside her, he leaned back with a sigh. “I suppose you want to talk about last night.”

She shook her head vehemently. “Not at all. I’ve never enjoyed rehashing my mistakes.”

He winced. “Is that what it was? A mistake?” They were situated in a small island of intimacy, far enough away from the other occupants of the large room that they couldn’t be overheard, but still on public display. The venue was guaranteed to keep his more reckless impulses under control. Probably.

Zoe picked at a loose thread on her skirt. “If it hadn’t been a mistake, you would have stayed the night. It was pretty clear that you were having second thoughts. It’s okay. I get it.”

“I’m fairly certain you don’t get it,” he said, “because I’m pretty sure I don’t even get it.” He had regretted leaving her the moment he walked out her door last night. But there was enough confusion churning in his gut to stop him from going back and taking her over and over until morning...the way he wanted to. Wild abandon was not his M.O. Being around Zoe showed him facets of his personality he’d either deliberately buried or had never acknowledged at all.

She shot him a sideways glance from beneath thick, sooty lashes. Her blue eyes were one of her most beautiful features. Luminous and lovely, they by rights should have been windows into her soul. But Zoe was a pro at dissimulation. Though her bubbly personality appeared open and guileless, the truth was, she was secretive and kept her own counsel.

“I’m sorry I make you angry,” she said quietly.

He ground his teeth. “I’m afraid for you.”

“You don’t have to be. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”

Both of her feet were now planted on the floor, her black ballet flats side by side. He wondered if the change in physical position meant she was prepared to run.

“You can trust me, Zoe.”

“Is trust a prerequisite for crazy sex?”

“Most people would say so.”

“I’m not most people,” she pointed out with perfect truth.

“No, you’re not. But I think you’re in some kind of trouble, and if you and I are going to spend some time together, I’d prefer not to be blindsided. Especially if I might need to protect you.”

At last a faint smile lifted the corner of her kissable lips. “Ah, the caveman thing. I love it. Though it’s quite ridiculous, you know. I’ve been on my own for a long time.”

“Okay, then. What if I just want to protect you? Would you agree to that? As long as I freely and fully admit that you don’t have to have a man to look out for you?”

She patted his knee. Briefly. Decorously. “I can live with that. As long as you promise you won’t protest or resist me if and when I try to get you to lighten up.”

“Does that mean what I think it means?”

“In your dreams.”

He loved sparring with her. The quick banter with its sexual overtones stimulated him both physically and mentally. No other woman of his acquaintance spoke to him the way Zoe did. Except for his mother—who had the ability to take him down a notch or two when the occasion warranted— most people, both male and female, either kowtowed to him, or at the very least treated him with deference.

Not that he expected or demanded such a thing. In fact, it often irritated him that his money and position caused people to treat him as some kind of exalted being. No danger of that with Zoe. Perhaps that was what drew him so strongly into her orbit. The childlike innocence of her outlook on life and the way she related to him simply as a man was refreshing and deeply appealing.

“Is this what you call regrouping?” he asked, hearkening back to her invitation to tea.

She leaned forward and picked up a china cup, lifting it to her lips. As she sipped delicately, she eyed him over the rim. “I bought hiking boots today.”

The odd segue caught him off guard. “You did?”

“For a man who is disgustingly wealthy, you work too hard.”

“Is there a question in there somewhere? And besides, working hard is not a crime.”

“Most people with your bank balance would be traveling the world.”

He shrugged. “Plenty of time for that.”

She carefully returned the cup to its saucer and snagged a small cookie. “You can’t bear the thought that all this could toddle along just fine without you.”

Her comment was uncomfortably close to the mark. If the hotel and his mother no longer needed him, he would be adrift in a sea of uncertainty. “No one is indispensable. But I like to think that what I do is important.”

“Of course it is. But you need balance, my friend.”

“That’s not the first time you’ve alluded to our being friends. I’m honored...I think.” He grinned at her. The residue of powdered sugar on her bottom lip made him desperate to lick it away, but he and Zoe were surrounded by interested eyes.


Her exuberant smile dimmed. “I don’t have close friends. Tons of acquaintances on at least three continents, but not the kind of people I can call at three in the morning. That’s the downside of always being on the move, I suppose.”

Again, he glimpsed a deep vein of vulnerability. A woman like Zoe was alone only by choice. What in her past had prompted the vagabond lifestyle? The only way he was going to get answers was to spend time with her. That would be no hardship. And in doing so, he could prove to her that he knew how to kick back and have fun.

“You mentioned boots,” he said.

“Hiking boots. You’ll be impressed.”

“I’m guessing this is where I’m supposed to offer my services as a guide?”

Her smile was innocent. The expression in her eyes was not. “That would be lovely...if you’re not too busy.”

He recognized the challenge for what it was. “I think I can make time for you.” The prospect was damned appealing. Spring in the mountains was his favorite time of year. “How about tomorrow morning? Nine o’clock. Meet me in the lobby...I’ll ask the chef to pack us a picnic.”

Her delighted smile bathed him in sunshine and warmth. “I can’t wait.”

* * *

Zoe felt a definite pang moments later as she watched him walk away. This game she played, pushing him to see if he would go along with her mischief, was dizzyingly fun. As she dabbed her lips with a crisp damask napkin and prepared to rise, a woman appeared at her elbow. “Ms. Chamberlain. Lovely to see you. Do you mind if we chat for a moment?” Liam’s mother wore a navy dress that complemented her coloring and suited her air of dignity.

The sinking feeling in the pit of Zoe’s stomach felt much like the time she had been summoned to the principal’s office for cutting her best friend’s hair without permission. “Of course,” she said, waving a hand. “Please join me.”

Maeve summoned a waiter for a fresh pot of tea and waited as he poured each of them a cup. Zoe had drunk so much by this time that she could have floated away. But she wasn’t about to refuse an overture from the Kavanagh matriarch.

When the formalities were complete, Maeve sat back and eyed Zoe with a faint smile. “I notice that my son is spending a fair amount of his time with you.”

“He’s an attentive host,” Zoe replied, the words matter-of-fact. Surely Maeve couldn’t know what had happened in Zoe’s room. “And your son, Dylan, has been kind enough to let me sing at the Silver Dollar.” She was hoping to steer the subject into less volatile territory. Discussing one’s lover with the lover’s mother was more than a little awkward.

Maeve set her cup on the low table in front of them. “I am a firm believer in innocent until proven guilty.”

Zoe gulped inwardly. “I don’t follow.”

“It’s simple.” Maeve shrugged. “You are an unconventional woman. And some of the details of your life have raised questions with my son, as you know. But you are a guest in my hotel, and as such will be afforded the utmost courtesy. I do, however, have one gentle warning.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

The respectful address did nothing to alleviate Maeve’s somber expression. Her gaze pinned Zoe’s without apology. “Don’t screw with my son’s emotions, or I’ll have to intervene.” The words were crisp and unequivocal. “He’s a grown man. But men can be blinded by their physical needs. If you are what you seem to be...a nice girl with a penchant for traveling lightly and often, then so be it. But if you have any notion of manipulating my son for your own personal or financial gain, I will send you packing.”

It was possible Zoe’s mouth gaped. She wasn’t accustomed to such blunt speaking, nor such evidence of a parent’s love and determination. Some women would be highly offended by Maeve’s speech. Zoe, however, couldn’t help but think how lucky Liam was to have such a force of nature guarding his back.

She swallowed the rush of envy and yearning. Maeve would be an awesome mother-in-law. The thought brought her up short. Where had that come from? “I swear you have nothing to fear from me, Mrs. Kavanagh. I’m only passing through. Your son is a wonderful man, but we have little in common.”

“Because you see Liam as staid and serious?’

“I wouldn’t have said staid.” More like sexy as hell.

“It might help if I tell you a bit of the Kavanagh story,” Maeve said. “Do you have a few moments?”

“Of course.”

Maeve poured herself another cup of tea and selected a macaroon from the plate of delicacies. Taking a bite, she put it on the saucer with her teacup and grimaced. “Living in a hotel with a world-renowned chef is a terrible strain on my willpower.”

“You’re an attractive woman. I can’t see any extra pounds.”

“Dear girl.” Now Maeve had a twinkle in her eye. “No wonder my son is smitten with you.”

That didn’t seem to require an answer. Zoe pretended to sip her zillionth cup of tea, beginning to feel like a character in a period drama, minus the cool clothes.

Dylan’s mother sighed, her expression reflective. “The original Kavanaghs came to this country in the 1920s. Times were hard, and this rocky, mountainous land was all they could afford. Our Kavanagh story and indeed our whole family might have died out long ago except for the fact that at the height of the Great Depression, an ancestor discovered a thick vein of silver hidden deep in a cave somewhere here on the mountain.”

“Sounds like a fairy tale.”

“It does, doesn’t it? That one event swung the tide, and from then on, the family fortunes prospered. Though a landslide eventually obscured the mine, there was enough money and sufficient sound investments to keep marching forward.”

“Had the mine been tapped out?”

“No one really remembers. But my late husband, Reggie, was convinced that he had to locate it. Unfortunately, he was egged on by a woman who came over from Ireland claiming to be a distant cousin. She said she was writing the Kavanagh family history, and we had no reason to believe otherwise.” Maeve’s expression for a moment reflected pain. “The woman was quite lovely, and I’m sorry to say that my husband was very weak. They began an affair.”

Zoe’s heart broke for Liam’s mother. “I’m so sorry.”

Maeve shrugged, her lips twisting. “Even Liam was infatuated with her. Until he realized what was going on. Then he hated her. Once she and Reggie were sleeping together, she became even more insistent that it was possible to find the mine. Reggie believed her because her certainty fed his own fantasies of reopening the mine. It became an ugly obsession. One winter day when Liam was in high school, Reggie took off on one of his jaunts and never returned.”

“And the woman?”

“She went back to Ireland. I had her investigated eventually. She lives in a low-rent flat in Dublin and works as a bank teller. I’m sure she was hoping that the American Kavanaghs would be her ticket out of a boring life.”

“That’s terrible.”

“It was a long time ago. But a disappearance is not a clean break like a death. There are always questions. And of course, there was no possibility of my finding anyone else to love. By the time the requisite years had passed for Reggie to be declared legally dead, my children and the hotel had become my life.”

“I can tell from what Liam says that you’re a close-knit family.”

“Yes. Liam and I even more so, because we work so closely together. He grew from a scared, angry teenager into a capable, caring man. But losing his father like that marked him. Though I never encouraged it, Liam was convinced he had no choice but to step up and be the head of the family. He was determined to be the antithesis of his father.”

“How so?”

“Reggie was a wonderful, outgoing, loving man. But he was unable to see that his obsession with finding the mine was terribly selfish. The tragedy of his presumed death took something from my sons that I could never give back to them. I did my best to play the role of both parents, but a boy of any age needs his father. Because of Reggie’s blindness, he robbed his children and did them a grave disservice. He had a responsibility as a dad, but he abdicated that obligation in favor of pursuing a fantasy.”

“And now Liam is the exact opposite.”

“In many ways, yes. I appreciate his dedication, and in fact, as a young man, he sacrificed much for me and for his family as a whole. I’ve prayed that he won’t grow to resent me, but still sometimes I worry.”

“Liam loves what he does. And he loves you.” Zoe said the words with absolute conviction. And was rewarded by the look of gratitude in Maeve’s damp eyes.

“Thank you for that,” the older woman said. “I’m so close to the situation, it’s difficult to be impartial.”

“I think you’re worried about nothing. I’ve seen men who resent their lot in life, and Liam isn’t one of them.”

“Tell me about your family, Zoe.”

The sudden question, commonplace though it was, took Zoe completely off guard. She stuttered and buried her face in her teacup, taking a long gulp as she tried to regain her composure. It was one thing to analyze the Kavanagh family. Another again to delve into Zoe’s past and present. Her kin were neither as charming nor as caring as Liam’s. And Zoe had no real desire to reveal the skeletons in her closet.


When she thought she could speak without sounding defensive, she smiled. “My parents live in the northeast. Sadly, we’re not very close.”

“You’re an only child?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Maeve shook her head, her expression exasperated. “Quit ma’am-ing me, if you please. It’s unnecessary. Call me Maeve.”

“I’d be honored.”

“You know, Zoe...” She paused, her shoulders lifting and falling. “I don’t have any daughters, only sons. But I think you are an extraordinary young woman, and I’d like to know you better.”

Danger, danger, danger. If Zoe became too entwined in the life of the Kavanagh family, she might find it even harder to leave. And she always left eventually. Always.

Nevertheless, Maeve was waiting for an answer. “I’d like that, too,” Zoe said, feeling the truth of the words in her heart. “And you don’t have to worry. I’m not a threat to your son.”