A Not-So-Innocent Seduction

Three


Liam didn’t sleep worth a damn. His sex was stiff and aching off and on for most of the night. The few hours he did manage to close his eyes and doze, he dreamed of Zoe. When the alarm went off at seven, he groaned and slapped the snooze button. Normally a morning person, today he knew it was going to take more than a cup of coffee—or two or four—to keep him on track.

The dreams he’d experienced had been explicit and erotic. In his extremely vivid nocturnal imagination, Zoe was continually naked and smiling. And happy to see him. He could actually feel the warmth of her body draped across his. A pleasant notion that played well in his subconscious, but not so much in the harsh light of day.

The alarm shrilled a second time, and he gave in.

An hour later, showered, dressed and mostly awake, he headed down to the lobby. It was a weekday, so their check-ins would be light. Marjorie stopped him with a question about a multiroom booking. Pierre wanted to show him a website that might be of interest to their guests. By the time Liam finally made it to his office, it was almost ten.

He sat down at his desk and opened his laptop, gazing absently out his window that overlooked the side of the property. The groundskeeper had outdone himself this past year. Dogwoods bloomed in profusion amidst carefully sculpted banks of forsythia. Narrow paths dotted with ornamental benches invited guests to stop and enjoy the rainbow of irises, tulips and English wildflowers planted in traditional beds.

The tranquil view soothed Liam as a rule. But today it made things worse. Because he could imagine himself and Zoe walking in the moonlight out there. A glance at the calendar on the wall confirmed the fact that the lunar phase was full tonight.

Sucking in a disgusted breath, he forced himself to focus on work. He was a grown man too old to be ruled by his male anatomy. Last night was exhilarating and stimulating in more ways than one. But he had to slow down. He was the head of the Kavanagh family. He had responsibilities. Big ones. He didn’t have the luxury of following every sexual whim.

The landline phone rang, startling him. He picked it up automatically. “Silver Beeches Lodge. Liam Kavanagh speaking.”

The voice on the other end was familiar. “Hey, buddy. Do you have a minute to come down to the shop?”

“What’s up, Gary?” He and the owner of the Silver Chassis had gone to public school together for years and remained friends to this day, despite the differences in their financial situations. Maeve had taught her children from the cradle that they were no better than anyone else. Money is not the measure of a man. Liam had heard those words from her a hundred times.

Silver Glen’s most talented mechanic lowered his voice. “I don’t want to say anything over the phone. But I think you’ll want to see this.”

* * *

Liam snagged a bagel and a banana from the hotel kitchen and ate them on the way down the mountain. The scenic drive was so familiar, he could have done it in his sleep, but the view affected him every time. This town would not exist without Kavanagh ancestors. Every part of the community had Kavanagh blood running through its veins.

For Liam it was both a blessing and a curse. He was proud to be a part of something so special, but he was ruefully aware that his heritage chained him here as certainly as any prison bars.

He’d taken up the yoke after his father’s disappearance. He had stood beside his grieving mother and sworn to keep their family together and afloat. But in the process, he’d given up any autonomy over his future. The road ahead was never going to change. He had trained himself to ignore the bleak disappointment that knowledge occasionally evoked.

He parked on the street behind Gary’s shop and went in search of the owner. Gary was in the pit, examining the undercarriage of a vintage VW bus. When he noticed Liam’s presence, he called out. “Hold on.” Moments later, he climbed up and joined Liam. “This is what I wanted to show you.”

Liam frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Gary was balding prematurely and had a bit of a beer gut, but he knew cars better than anyone Liam had ever met. “It was towed here this morning by an automobile service. The owner contacted me and gave me carte blanche to replace the engine and anything else that needed attention.”

“So?”

“So,” Gary said with a grimace, “the owner has checked into your hotel.”

Liam shook his head in disbelief as the light dawned. “Zoe Chamberlain,” he said.

“How did you know?”

“A lucky guess. When she walked through the front door I pegged her as the reincarnation of a 1960s love child. But despite her eccentricities, I don’t get your concern.”

Gary rubbed his chin, smearing grease below his lip. “Take a look.” He opened the back of the van. “Ms. Chamberlain has been sleeping in the back of her vehicle. On a regular basis. The mattress is well-worn, and she has a stash of personal toiletries in that small cabinet. Call me crazy, but how can a woman like that afford the Silver Beeches? She gave me a platinum card number with no limit. I’m a little spooked though. I can’t afford to get ripped off on a job this big.”


“Meaning you think the card might be stolen?”

“Well, what’s your explanation?”

“I don’t have one.” Liam’s stomach curled with frustration. Had he been taken in by a scam artist?

“How long is she staying?”

“She made a reservation for six weeks.”

“Hell, man. You know your rates better than I do. Something doesn’t add up.”

Liam took one last look inside the van and closed the door. “Go ahead and start ordering parts. I’ll cover it all if there’s a problem. In the meantime, tell her it’s going to be a week or more. I’ll offer her a hotel vehicle to drive. That will buy us some time to make sure the credit card is legit.” His own motives were muddled, but if he did Zoe a favor, perhaps she would be inclined to drop her guard around him and he could figure out what the hell was going on.

Gary slapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Liam. Sorry for interrupting your day, but I thought you’d want to know.”

Liam grimaced. “I appreciate the heads-up. I’ll keep you posted.”

* * *

Zoe slept late and enjoyed a wonderfully lazy morning in bed. Breakfast was delivered via room service—a selection of handmade miniature pastries, generous servings of bacon and eggs, and a fancy silver pot full of coffee. By the time she finished, her tummy was uncomfortably full, but she didn’t regret a bite of the overindulgence.

Setting the tray outside her door, she made sure the do-not-disturb sign was in place on the doorknob and then climbed back into bed. Because her room was on the top floor, she had the luxury of leaving the drapes open without worrying about anyone looking in on her.

The sunshine boosted her spirits. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she curled into the spot that was still warm and let her mind wander.

She felt safe in this room in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

The only shadow over her current happiness was Bessie. The garage owner had called moments before and said the repairs would take a number of days because of the difficulty of getting parts. Which meant Zoe was stranded. The nearest car rental place was at the airport in Asheville. She didn’t really want to go back there.

Maybe she could hitch a ride with someone going into town. She liked exploring new places, and Silver Glen, at least from a distance, appeared delightfully appealing.

The severity of her illness had scared her. It was difficult to maintain a healthy lifestyle on the road. Too much fast food and not enough rest and exercise. During the weeks she had booked at the Silver Beeches, she needed to take advantage of the hotel chef’s expertise and eat well.

By one in the afternoon, she had reached her limit for taking it easy. After showering and changing into black slacks and a silky top with a geometric pattern of taupe and cinnamon, she went in search of the dining room. White linen tablecloths and crystal chandeliers set a standard for elegance, though she saw a wide variety of clothing choices in the diners. Everything from jeans to suits and ties.

Asking the hostess for a table for one did not bother Zoe. She had lived much of her adult life on her own. Choosing what to order was far more difficult. The menu was amazing. At long last, she settled on chicken marsala with spinach salad and sautéed squash. The meal included hot yeast rolls that were to die for.

As she ate, she studied her companions surreptitiously. Everyone in the room seemed at ease with the upscale setting. No one pretending to be something they were not. But everyone had secrets of one sort or another, no matter their station in life.

She was drinking coffee with her sorbet when Liam strode into the room. He worked the crowd effortlessly, stopping to speak to one table and then another. His confidence and charm drew smiles from patrons who were clearly pleased to receive his attention. Today he wore a navy sport coat over khaki trousers with another crisp white shirt. His tie was a tasteful paisley pattern of blues and greens.

Despite his conservative clothing, his physique was impressive. Broad shoulders, narrow waist and hips, and long legs. If she had to guess, she’d say he was about six-two to her five foot nine.

Zoe smiled at him wryly when he finally made it to where she sat, her pulse skittering in a disconcerting fashion. “You should have been a politician. I can see you kissing babies and shaking hands all over the state.”

Without asking, he pulled out a chair and sat down beside her. His quick grin took years off his age. “I hate lying and sucking up to fat cats. So I don’t think so. I’m happy right where I am.”

“Are you really?”

The grin disappeared, replaced by what she was coming to recognize as his familiar brooding intensity. “What does that mean?”

She shrugged. “Don’t you ever have the urge to drive out of town and not look back? Hit the road for places unknown?”

“Is that how you live your life?”

The sharp retort with its hint of disapproval put her back up. “There’s a lot to be said for travel. It broadens the mind.”

“I’ve noticed you’re good at dodging questions you don’t like. Maybe you should have been a politician.”

She stared at him, nonplussed. Not many people had the sharp wit and the perspicacity to silence her. “Are we having our first fight?”

He shook his head, clearly amused by her question. “I’m in too good a mood today for that. The sun is shining. The stock market is up. The hotel is full. I’ve got no complaints.” He lifted a hand, and the server brought him a cup of black coffee. “I had a phone call from the garage in town,” Liam said. “Gary tells me that your vehicle is in the shop. So I’ve brought you these.” He tossed a set of keys on the table.

Eyeing him suspiciously, Zoe ignored the offering. “I’ve heard of full-service hotels, but this is ridiculous.”

Liam leaned back in his chair. “Don’t get your hopes up. It isn’t a flashy sports car. Just an old Sentra that we keep for the occasional emergency.”

“I can’t imagine you’re this attentive to every guest.”

“You’d be surprised. And besides, I have a hidden agenda with you.”

Her heartbeat quickened. “How so?”

“My mother accused me of trying to run you off. I need to prove to her that I’m a gentleman. And who knows? You might coax me into playing hooky from work a time or two while you’re here.”

“You seem like the least likely person I’ve ever known to be led astray.”

“Then you’d be wrong. It’s springtime in the mountains. Even a workaholic like me can see the attraction.”

When he smiled, ever so gently, Zoe felt something inside her loosen and flower. Despite her tendency to hold people at a distance, something about Liam Kavanagh slipped past her defenses. He wasn’t a warm, fuzzy person. In fact, he was rather intimidating. But nevertheless, she felt a strong pull of attraction.

Despite that unsettling truth, she wasn’t yet ready to jump headlong into a flirtation that might make her time at the Silver Beeches uncomfortable. She picked up the keys and tucked them in her purse. “Thank you for the vehicle. I’ll be careful with it.”

He watched her like a cat watches a mouse. “I’m sure you will.” After a momentary silence, he continued. “So do you have any specific plans for your stay with us, or are you more the type to be spontaneous?”

“You said that last word as if it put a bad taste in your mouth. Do you have a problem with spontaneity?”

“Not really. Though it isn’t an attribute that fits my lifestyle very well.”

“Because Liam is all work and no play?”

His eyes narrowed. “You must think me dreadfully dull.”

“Not at all. I admire your work ethic.”

“Hogwash,” he said forcefully, startling her. “You probably don’t even own a day planner, do you?” She had the odd notion that he was attracted to her and critical of her at the same time.

She’d been judged and found wanting too many times in her life to let Liam do the same. For the moment, her indignation overrode her appreciation of his masculine appeal. “I believe it’s safe to say that our personalities clash, Mr. Kavanagh. Perhaps it might be best if we avoid one another while I’m here. Good day.”

* * *

With clenched teeth, Liam watched his beautiful guest walk away. The sway of her hips was no less mesmerizing in pants than it had been in a flowing skirt. He had come to the dining room earlier with every intention of getting to know Zoe a little better. Instead, he had lit the fuse of her temper in record time.

Was it the spark of attraction between them that made things so touchy? Or was Zoe right? Were the two of them oil and water?

Grumbling beneath his breath, he finished his coffee and stood up, ruefully aware that some of the luncheon guests had watched his encounter with interest. Schooling his face to a calm expression, he made his way across the room and exited to the hallway.

Pierre caught up with him en route to the lobby. The longtime employee’s face was creased with worry. “There was a man here, Mr. Kavanagh. Asking about Ms. Chamberlain. I got a bad feeling about the guy. Looked like he might be law enforcement or a P.I.”


Liam’s senses went on high alert. “But he didn’t identify himself as such?”

“No, sir. Didn’t say much of anything at all except that he was inquiring as to Ms. Chamberlain’s whereabouts. At least I think that’s what he wanted. He called her Zoe Henshaw, though.”

“What did you tell him?”

The concierge’s expression was awash with guilt. “I told him we had no guest by that name. He left, but I wondered if I should let Mrs. Kavanagh know.”

“I’ll handle it,” Liam said. “You did the right thing. Our guests expect and deserve their privacy. Keep an eye out for him and let me know if he shows up again.”

Liam returned to his office, his gut clenched with worry. Who was Zoe Chamberlain? And why did he feel the need to protect her? Hadn’t he learned his lesson long ago? Women were resilient creatures. His need to play Galahad was misplaced at best.

His jaw set, he picked up the phone and dialed the credit card company. After twenty minutes on hold listening to a watered-down version of Frank Sinatra tunes, he was finally connected to a customer service representative who was polite but not at all forthcoming. The woman cited privacy laws, but assured him that the card was not stolen and that the line of credit was unlimited.

Liam hung up and drummed the fingers of one hand on the blotter, no less agitated than he had been before. There was no reason to suppose that Zoe was anything other than an extremely wealthy woman who wanted to spend some time in the mountains.

But somehow, that explanation didn’t satisfy him.

Forcing himself to slog through a backlog of work, he made it an hour and a half before he conceded defeat and admitted that the Zoe situation was occupying his attention to the exclusion of all else. Though he would like to think he could let things play out in due time, he knew himself well enough to realize that he wasn’t going to be able to let it drop. He had to know more about Zoe. Both for personal and professional reasons. Where was she from? Did she have a job of any kind? Who was the man looking for her? Why did she drive an ancient van, and why was there evidence that at least some of the time, she wasn’t sleeping in four-star hotels?

Telling himself that he might be imagining trouble where none existed, he typed the name Zoe Chamberlain into Google’s search box, hit a key, and waited. To his consternation, the only match from this region of the country was an African-American woman in south Georgia who produced some kind of folk art out of old silverware.

Trying Zoe Henshaw produced little else of note. The entries he found contained mostly generic information that could have pertained to any one of a number of people.

Of the Zoe Chamberlain with the golden hair, blue eyes and sunny disposition, there was no mention. Which meant that his oh-so-beautiful hotel guest was probably lying to him. Anger, disappointment, and an amorphous anxiety threatened to choke him.

The Silver Beeches was his turf. Everything that happened beneath this roof was under his domain. Even so, did he have the right to dig into the puzzle that was Zoe? Was he out of line in wanting to find answers?

Six weeks was a long time to wonder.