“And the other reason?” he asked to distract himself.
“For the record, I don’t want to get personal so you’ll give me the hotel’s deep dark secrets. Contrary to what my managing editor believes, I happen to be a very competent reporter. As long as you let me behind the scenes, I’ll get those secrets myself.”
Tipping her head back, she met his gaze. “I want to get personal because I’m attracted to you. Very attracted. I want to experience the Falling Inn Bed magic and I can’t do that all by my lonesome. Admittedly, you’re not the type of man I usually date, but then there’s no accounting for chemistry.”
Truer words had never been spoken.
He wondered what type of man she usually dated and would not even entertain asking the question.
“So, Adam, there you have it. I think sex is a great way to relax and have fun. And I happen to have a suite filled with sexy goodies that we could experiment with together. But that means you’ll have to come inside and get naked.”
His chest constricted tighter with every word she spoke and he couldn’t decide whether the breathless quality in her voice or her boldness nailed him like a sucker punch.
Bottom line—it didn’t matter.
He was in for a long two weeks if he couldn’t come up with a way to deal with this woman and keep his clothes on.
2
TORI SLIPPED INTO the seat that the namesake of Bruno’s Place held for her. “I’m being seated to breakfast by a five-star chef. Is this VIP treatment for your local reporter or do you usually seat all your guests on Sunday mornings?”
“The VIP treatment, of course. If I played waiter too often, I’d have no time to cook, and that would be a crime,” the burly chef said with a grin. “You’re in my world now, Ms. Ford, and I take my press seriously.”
“Is that how you manage to keep in our food critic’s good graces? She’s known to be tough, yet you manage to stay on her top shelf week after week.”
“No mystery there. Your food critic is tough, but she’s good. She recognizes I’m that good.”
With a laugh, Tori accepted the napkin he handed her. She appreciated honesty, preferring to know where she stood with people, good, bad or otherwise. And Bruno, a chef who was that good, would shine when his turn for an interview rolled around—as long as he continued to shoot straight with her.
This morning, however, he was off the hook. She had a breakfast interview with the infamous bedding consultant, who, Tori glanced at her watch as she accepted a menu, would be tardy in a mere two minutes.
“I want you to read through my dishes and pick whatever your little heart desires,” he said. “If you want something special, I’ll whip it up.”
“Why, Bruno, you really are sucking up to me.” She couldn’t help but wish Adam Grant would be as accommodating. The thought of that hot man satisfying her every desire… Mm-mm.
“Of course I’m sucking up to you, Ms. Ford.” The burly man with the balding head gave a hearty laugh. “The way to my success is through your stomach.”
And he was off to a good start as he poured her a cup of much-needed coffee, explaining his specialties and otherwise entertaining her until the bedding consultant appeared at the hostess station with barely a minute to spare.
With her white-blond hair and blue eyes, Laura Granger wasn’t only beautiful, but striking in a runway-model sort of way. Tall and slim, both features leant her a gracefulness as she wound her way through the tables, greeting guests and staff.
Tori couldn’t help but remember how pea-green her older sister used to get about Laura while they’d been attending school at Westfalls Academy. While she’d been a few years behind them, she’d been privy to her sister’s feelings on visits home.
As an adult—and an adult who made her living observing people and looking for stories—the situation made more sense. People in this town tended to compare her sister, Miranda, with Laura because of the connection between their two families.
But meeting Laura up close and personal convinced Tori that although both women were the same age, they couldn’t have been more different if they’d tried.
Miranda was delicate and dark. Laura was taller and fair. Miranda had always been social and popular, Laura the shy outcast. Miranda excelled at whatever she did. Except for dance class at Westfalls, where Laura had stolen the spotlight.
Boy, could Laura Granger dance. Tori remembered how she’d get out on that big stage in Marshall Hall and wow the audience. Like Bruno in the kitchen, Laura had been that good. Tori wondered if she hadn’t turned professional because her family couldn’t afford to train her.
But Laura seemed to have found her niche at Falling Inn Bed. It wasn’t every day that a hotel wedding coordinator had the Worldwide Travel Association send a photojournalist like Tyler Tripp. Then again, Laura wasn’t an ordinary wedding consultant by any stretch; she was the one and only bedding consultant.
She marched to her own beat, while Miranda maintained the status quo at all costs. And Tori knew those costs were high.
She watched as Laura kissed Bruno’s cheek when he told her he’d send along a waiter with espresso. Then she slipped into the chair across the table and told him they’d need some time before ordering.
“That’ll work for you, Tori?” Laura asked.
“As long as the coffee keeps coming.”
“It won’t get a chance to cool,” Bruno promised before strolling away, looking remarkably like a bull in a china shop among the turn-of-the-last-century antique tables and glassware.
Tori sipped her coffee, curious to gauge Laura’s attitude to their first interview. They’d spoken since her arrival on the property, of course. Laura had even given her a tour of the new Wedding Wing. But today they were going to get personal and, with a family history like theirs, that was saying a bunch.
“Well, who’d have ever guessed that we’d be sitting together with only a few feet of table between us?” Tori said.
“Not in my wildest dreams.” Laura smiled, and up close, her looks were even more striking.
Okay, maybe Tori should have been more sympathetic to Miranda’s plight—she certainly wouldn’t want to be compared to Laura Granger and her incredible good looks.
“So you were worried I was going to be biased,” Tori said.
“Adam told you that?”
“I asked. I figured he’d have denied it if he could have.”
“At first, perhaps,” she admitted. “But you promised you wouldn’t trash the Naughty Nuptials because of our family history, so I took you at your word. I also told everyone to take exceptional care of you or we wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Tori thought of Bruno and smiled. “So I heard. Why don’t you mention it to Adam.”
Laura arched an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”
“Not really. He’s very…professional.” Too professional. “So what did you tell him about me?”
She needed to know everything she could to help this man have a little fun.
“Nothing more than the overview of our family history that I shared with all my co-workers. When I found out you were taking over our press. I didn’t want them to be sandbagged either way.”
“How is it they never heard about the rift between our families? I thought we were legend around Niagara Falls.”
Laura smiled then greeted the approaching waiter. Accepting the steaming mug, she sipped appreciatively. “None of them come from