She pursed her lips in an exasperated moue, and he was pleased to sidestep at least one indecent proposal today.
“Thank you,” she said.
He directed her out onto the promenade. “I’m actually surprised Laura didn’t tour you around the whole property when you first arrived.”
“Oh, she offered, but I only let her show me the Wedding Wing. That’s her cupcake, after all.” Tori’s big blue eyes sparkled. “But I’m dying to see the original hotel, though. My sister and her husband stayed in the Roman Bagnio on their wedding night and to hear Troy tell it, he’d have enjoyed spending a few more nights there before flying off to Hawaii for their honeymoon. Think you can arrange to tour me through any of the inn’s original suites?”
Sure he could, but did he really want to be alone with her in suites with names like the Victorian Bordello, Sultan’s Seraglio and Demimondaine’s Boudoir?
No, yet he couldn’t help but be impressed at how neatly she twisted the situation around to corner him. Strategy he could respect, even when it meant postponing his workout even longer.
The woman was clever, he’d definitely give her that.
“I haven’t reviewed the audit reports yet, Ms. Ford, but we ran close to full occupancy last night. Seeing a suite might not be possible.”
“Today’s Sunday, and checkout was at noon. Surely some guests will have left by now. Can’t you slip me in for a peek?”
“Housekeeping’s scheduled after checkout.”
With her arm still locked through his, she tugged him around so they were headed back in the direction of the front desk. “Just check, please. For me.”
No wheedling, yet even so, Adam marveled at the way she managed to turn everything back around to what she wanted.
To be alone with him.
“I’ll check.” If only for a moment to put some distance between them and regain control of his pulse.
A trip behind the front desk almost did the trick until he found two suites recently vacated—the Red Light District and the Wild West Brothel. He considered claiming that none were available, but Adam wouldn’t lie—not even to spare himself a visit with this woman to the Red Light District, complete with spotlight, stage and chair suitable for a sexy lap dance.
“We’ll tour the Wild West Brothel.”
With any luck, the historically themed furnishings would distract this woman from the overt sexuality of the suite.
Then again, Adam wouldn’t get his hopes up. Not when Tori beamed at him across the counter and said, “Ride ’em, cowboy,” then led him up to the fifth floor herself.
“You’re familiar with the layout of the inn, I see,” he said dryly when she brought him right to the door with the appropriate shiny gold nameplate.
She gave a casual shrug that drew his gaze yet again to the red waves spilling over her shoulders and the delicate curve of her throat. “Wouldn’t be much of a reporter if I couldn’t find my way around without help.”
“No argument there.” He’d never met a more determined woman and he still had the memory of her in that see-through robe burned in his brain to prove it. Withdrawing his master keycard, he inserted it into the mechanism, unlocked the door and stepped inside to hold the door for his curious reporter.
Tori smiled up at him as she walked past and said, “Was that a compliment or a criticism, Adam?”
“A compliment, of course.” He injected some sincerity into his voice as the door shut with an absurd note of finality.
“Wouldn’t do to criticize the reporter responsible for your reviews, hm?”
He didn’t get a chance to reply before she came to an abrupt stop in the foyer and laughed. “Oh, my. Look at this place. This is as incredible as the Wedding Knight Suite. Not as elaborate, but, still, very impressive.”
Stepping inside this suite always made Adam feel as if he were walking onto the set of a John Wayne western. A bar served as the dining area and a long mirror mounted with steer horns graced the wall above. Walls paneled in rustic wood bore vintage posters of lustful couples for a welcoming bunkhouse look.
All the furniture had been scaled in size for two, and the leather sex swing hanging from the ceiling was the focal point of the room. Adam knew the bedroom was set up with a wax warmer and specialty sheet set, so guests could engage in sexy branding.
Tori’s observation skills were clearly on because there were indeed differences between this romance-themed suite, which had been fashioned to accommodate the original hotel structure, and those designed for the new Wedding Wing. Building from the ground up had given Laura and Dale the chance to create suites on a grand scale.
Creating fantasies, he’d heard Laura call it.
Which made Adam wonder—not for the first time—why he’d been so completely unprepared for the way sex affected the management around here. He’d researched Falling Inn Bed thoroughly before interviewing for the position. He’d seen all the press and had even toured the property. Yet he’d still not fully understood that the inn’s sexy theme would change the requirements and attitudes for upper management.
In his mind, all properties had qualities targeting specific clienteles, but just because a hotel catered to an island vacation crowd didn’t mean management worked in beachwear.
Maybe he’d just been too eager for a chance to become a stockholder in the Falling Inn Corporation. Or maybe he’d been so intent on leaving Seattle after his broken engagement that he hadn’t paid close enough attention to what was really taking place at this inn.
And as he watched the sex-crazed reporter inspect the romance-themed suite, Adam couldn’t help but think that his oversight in assessing the management—whatever the reason—was directly responsible for Tori Ford becoming the top item on his agenda.
“Did Laura design these suites, too?” she asked.
“Not to my knowledge. If memory serves, she came on the scene after Ms. J and her staff had acquired the property. Laura did tell me these suites inspired the ones in the Wedding Wing.”
“Even bigger and better fantasies. Mm-mm.” She took off into the bedroom, where he knew she’d find a bed with the Rope ’Em and Ride ’Em specialty sheets—complete with custom pockets filled with sex toys—and the bathroom that boasted a garden spa for couples.
Leaning against the bar, Adam passed on this part of the tour. No doubt Tori would use their close proximity to a bed to get a reaction from him, and he’d rather not give her another opportunity to play her game.
She didn’t need his help. She was getting enough of a reaction by doing nothing more than crossing the room to peer out the windows that overlooked the forested park leading to the Falls. The noon sun threw her into sharp relief, and Adam imagined he could see the faint outline of her body through her sundress. The memory of all those luscious curves from yesterday’s performance still burned too hot in his brain.
And then she scooted into the swing. The supple leather seat molded her shapely bottom as she started up another show…this time, one that prompted thoughts of what she’d feel like with her legs wrapped around him, weightless…
She pushed off, and her long bare legs stretched out as she rode backward in a smooth glide. Her body arced with the motion, her hair spilling out behind her, treating Adam to an image of what she might look like spread out horizontally for that calorie-burning exercise she’d mentioned earlier.
One of her sandals slipped off, clattering onto the wooden floor and drawing his gaze to the neatly manicured toes in some shade of ultrafeminine pink. She laughed, a carefree sound that contrasted sharply with the tension coiling tight inside him as his blood rushed hard in a direction in which