What The Millionaire Wants...: What the Millionaire Wants... / Spencer's Forbidden Passion. Brenda Jackson

didn’t bother to look up from her paperwork. “I thought you had a date.”

      “Forget about my date. I want some answers.”

      Laura sighed. “Nothing’s going on and the bet doesn’t concern you.”

      “It sure didn’t look like nothing to me. You two were generating enough heat between you to keep this hotel warm for the entire winter. And when Jack mentioned that bet, you turned as red as that skirt you’re wearing before you stormed out of the dining room.”

      “You’re wrong.”

      Chloe planted her hands on the desk, got in her face. “Laura, this is me you’re talking to. I may not know anything about running a hotel, but I do know about sexual chemistry. And believe me, there was definitely some serious sexual chemistry cooking between you two.”

      Her sister was right, Laura admitted to herself. There was sexual chemistry between them. And for her there was something more, something she hadn’t wanted. She had hoped that kiss in the park had just been a fluke, that these feelings she was starting to have for Jack weren’t real and would disappear with the light of day and with some distance. But they hadn’t disappeared. If anything, they were getting stronger. In fact, he was the reason she had come home early from California. She had actually missed him, had even wondered if she had misjudged him. She had gone so far as to hope that maybe she wasn’t the only one who had felt there was something more than desire happening between them. Only when she’d seen him with Chloe, believing he was trying to buy her sister’s stock, she’d realized she had been kidding herself. Sure, Jackson Hawke might want to have sex with her, but what he really wanted was the Contessa. His reminder that in twenty days he intended to take the Contessa from her only served to bring home that fact.

      “Since I turned down two million dollars for my stock because this place means so much to you, I think I deserve some answers,” Chloe pointed out. “Tell me what’s going on and why you’re so upset.”

      Laura told her sister everything. She told her about the bet she had made with Jack in the heat of the moment. She told her about the evening they had spent together at the park viewing the Christmas lights. She told her about the kiss and the feelings it had stirred inside her.

      “It sounds to me like you might be falling for the guy,” Chloe responded. “There’s nothing wrong with that. You said you and Matt weren’t exclusive anymore. And you can bet the wannabe-congressman isn’t spending his nights alone. Or did he manage to convince you to change your mind about that when you were out in California?”

      “Matt didn’t convince me to change my mind about anything because I didn’t see him. I went to see Papa Vincenzo and his family because I canceled on them at Thanksgiving,” she said, referring to one of their former stepfathers.

      “Then I don’t see where you hooking up with Jack should be a problem.”

      “It’s a problem because I’m not into one-night stands or casual sex. And that’s what it would be with a man like Hawke.”

      “You don’t know that,” Chloe argued.

      No, she didn’t know it for a fact. But she had a pretty good idea that Hawke was not a man who was into long-term relationships or commitments. She was. “But I do know that the man’s a shark. He’s a corporate raider. Half the companies he buys, he dismantles and sells them off in pieces for a profit. And now he’s intent on doing that to our hotel.”

      “Not according to him,” her sister told her. “Besides, if you ask me, Mr. Jackson Hawke seemed a lot more interested in winning that bet and you than he is in foreclosing on the hotel.”

      “Yes, he is. Isn’t he?” He did seem intent on the bet, Laura realized, and found herself wondering why. While she didn’t doubt for a second that he wanted her, there had been moments when she’d caught him looking at her, with something more than desire in his eyes. There had been anger and determination and something else all mixed in with his wanting her. What she didn’t understand was why. “Don’t you find that odd? That he’s more focused on the bet than the hotel?”

      “What I think, dear sister, is you think too much.” Walking around to the other side of Laura’s desk, Chloe opened the drawer and stole a bag of chocolate-covered nuts from her stash. When Laura attempted to take them back, Chloe quickly moved out of her reach. “You know what else I think?” she asked as she ripped open the bag and popped several of the candies into her mouth.

      “No. But I imagine you’re going to tell me.”

      “I think Jackson Hawke’s got a case of the hots for you. And I think you’ve got the hots for him. So I say quit analyzing it to death and enjoy it.”

      “And I say you’re going to be late for your date,” Laura said, wanting to end the discussion.

      “All right, I’m going. But seriously, Laura, there are a lot worse things that could happen than to find yourself waking up in Hawke’s bed.”

      There were a lot worse things that could happen than her ending up in Jackson Hawke’s bed, Laura conceded. One worse thing that came to her mind was losing the Contessa Hotel. Not wanting to think about that possibility or about Jack, she fortified herself with a chocolate peanut-butter cup, then tackled the mountain of reports and correspondence that had accumulated in her absence.

      After she’d finished going through the budget reports and projections, she reached for the folder of incoming mail. A quick glance revealed several solicitations, bills and subscriptions. Then she spied an unopened envelope from the Jardine Law Firm. Her stomach pitched. It was the same firm that had handled the foreclosure paperwork for Hawke. Ripping open the envelope, she pulled out the document.

      Quickly, she skimmed the legal jargon and zeroed in on the name Hawke Industries.

      In accordance with Hawke Industries’ purchase of the above-referenced note, Hawke Industries and/or its appointed representative are hereby granted access to said hotel property in order to perform the due diligence afforded Hawke Industries as purchaser of said note. Hawke Industries and/or its appointed representative will not be afforded the right to take any actions or implement any changes in the hotel, its management, personnel or operations until such time that the thirty-day grace period on the loan has expired and the shares of stock in the hotel are transferred to Hawke Industries. Also in accordance with the purchase of the above-referenced note, Hawke Industries and/or its appointed representative will be provided suitable office work space to perform said due-diligence process connected with the sale.

      Laura didn’t bother reading any further. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t just waltz in and take over before the thirty days were up. And if he’d been planning to do this, why hadn’t he told her? With temper blazing and the attorney’s letter crumpled in her fist, she headed for the penthouse suite. The ride up the slow-moving elevator only added to her mood. By the time she exited the car, she was nearly trembling with anger and frustration. Marching over to the ornate door of the penthouse, she punched the doorbell to the suite. She counted to ten and when Jack didn’t answer, she pounded on the door with her fist.

      No answer.

      She beat on the door again. “Hawke, open this door now.” When he still failed to respond, Laura didn’t hesitate. Reaching into her skirt pocket, she pulled out the master key card she always carried that allowed management access to all rooms in the hotel for emergency purposes. She zipped it into the lock. The green light kicked on, unlocking the door.

      “Hawke, get out here,” she demanded from the entrance.

      Nothing.

      “Hawke,” she yelled as she tried to find him in the living and dining room areas. Ignoring the laptop computer and mounds of files, she began searching the rest of the suite. The first two bedrooms were empty. Growing angrier by the second, she pushed open the door to the master suite. Still no Hawke. She spied the door to the bathroom ajar, heard the buzz of an electric razor. Intent on confronting him, Laura made a beeline for the bathroom. She