Secrets, Lies & Lullabies. Heidi Betts

killing her.

      But even though he had the brown leather satchel open on the glass-topped table and had pulled out several stacks of paperwork, he shook his head.

      “Go ahead and finish what you were doing,” he told her. “I’ve just got a couple of things to look over, but you won’t distract me. In fact, the background noise might do me some good.”

      Well, shoot. How was she supposed to make a smooth but timely exit now?

      She guessed she wasn’t.

      Dragging the vacuum across the sitting room, she set it in the hallway just outside the door of the suite. Then she gathered up an armful of fresh towels and washcloths for the bathroom.

      It wasn’t hard to go about her business this far away from Alexander. It was almost as though the air was normal in this tiled, insulated room instead of thick with nerves and guilt and unspoken sexual awareness. From her standpoint, at any rate. From his the air probably seemed absolutely normal. After all, he wasn’t the one snooping, breaking the law, fighting a completely unwanted sexual attraction to someone he was supposed to hate.

      She spent an inordinate amount of time making sure the towels hung just right on the towel rods and were perfectly even in their little cubbies under the vanity. Even longer putting out new bottles of shampoo, conditioner, mouthwash and shaving cream.

      There were decorative mints and chocolates to go on the pillows in the bedroom, but she didn’t want to go back in there. From the bathroom she could wave a hasty goodbye and get the heck out of Dodge. But if she returned to the bedroom, she would have to pass by Alexander. See him, smile at him, risk having him speak to her again.

      That was one corner she was willing to cut today. Even if he complained to her superiors and she got in trouble later, missing mints were easier to apologize for than snooping or blushing herself into heat stroke in front of a valued guest.

      Stepping out of the marble-and-gilt bathroom, she rounded the corner and was just congratulating herself on a narrow escape when she lifted her head and almost ran smack into Alexander, who was leaning against the outside wall waiting for her.

      She made a tiny eep sound, slapping a hand over her heart as she bounced back on her heels.

      “Sorry,” he apologized, reaching out to steady her. “Didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted to catch you before you took off.”

      If ever there was a word she didn’t want to hear pass this man’s lips, it was catch. Was she caught? Had he noticed something out of place? Figured out that she’d rifled through his things?

      She held her breath, waiting for the accusations he had every right to fling at her.

      Instead, as soon as he was sure she wasn’t going to topple over, he let go of her elbow and went back to leaning negligently against the wall. It was a casual pose, but all Jessica could think was that he was standing between her and the door, blocking her only exit from the suite.

      “I know this is probably out of line,” he murmured, “but I was hoping you’d have dinner with me tonight.”

      His words caused her heart to stutter and then stall out completely for several long seconds.

      “I’m here on business, so after I finish with meetings and such during the day, my evening hours are a bit … empty.”

      He shrugged a shoulder, and because he’d taken off the blazer, she could see the play of muscle caused by the movement beneath his crisp white dress shirt. Something so minor shouldn’t make her hormones sit up and take notice, but they did. Boy, howdy, did they ever.

      Licking her lips, she cleared her throat and hoped her voice didn’t squeak when she tried to speak. It was bad enough that her face was aflame with nerves; she could feel the heat all but setting her eyelashes on fire. She already looked like a clown, in many people’s estimation—she didn’t need to open her mouth and sound like one, too.

      “Thank you, but fraternizing with guests is against resort policy.”

      Ooh, that sounded good. Very confident and professional—and squeak-free.

      Alexander lifted a brow. “Somehow I find it hard to believe a woman with blue hair is afraid of breaking a few rules.”

      She reached up to toy with the strip of chemically altered hair he was referring to. “It’s not all blue,” she muttered.

      That bought her a too-handsome grin and flash of very white, perfectly straight teeth. “Just enough to let the world know you’re a rebel, right?”

      Wow, he had her pegged, didn’t he? And he wasn’t taking no, thank you, for an answer.

      Dropping the hank of hair, Jessica pushed her shoulders back. She was a rebel, as well as a confident, self-reliant woman. But she wasn’t stupid.

      “I could lose my job,” she said simply.

      He cocked his head. She wasn’t the only self-assured person in the room.

      “But you won’t,” he told her matter-of-factly. Then, after a brief pause, he added, “Would it make you feel better if I said I won’t let that happen?”

      With anybody else she would have scoffed. But knowing who Alexander Bajoran was and the power he held—even here in Portland—she had no doubt he meant what he said and had enough influence to make it stick.

      “You’ll be on your own time, not the resort’s,” he pointed out. “And I’ll let you decide whether we order from room service or go out somewhere else.”

      She should say no. Any sensible person would. The entire situation screamed danger with a capital D.

      But she had to admit, she was curious. She’d had male guests proposition her before, give her that salacious, skin-crawling look reserved for when they were on out-of-town business trips without their wives and thought they could get away with something.

      Alexander was the first, though, to ask her to dinner without the creepy looks or attempts at groping. Which made her wonder why he was interested.

      Did he suspect her of snooping around where she didn’t belong, or was he just hitting on a pretty, no-strings-attached maid? Did he recognize her as a Taylor and think she was up to something, or just hope to get lucky?

      Of course she was up to something, but now she wanted to know if he was up to something, too.

      So even though she knew she should be running a hundred miles an hour in the opposite direction, she opened her mouth and made the biggest mistake of her life.

      “All right.”

      Three

      Jessica didn’t get many opportunities to dress up these days. But she was having dinner this evening with a very wealthy, very handsome man, and even though she knew it was a terrible idea, she wanted to make the most of it. Not so much the man and the dinner but simply the act of going out and feeling special for a little while. Putting on something pretty rather than functional. Taking extra time with her makeup and hair. Wearing heels instead of ratty old tennies.

      She even went so far as to dab on a couple drops of what was left of her favorite three-hundred-dollar-an-ounce designer perfume, Fanta C. Alexander Bajoran might not be worth a spritz or two, but she certainly was.

      She was wearing a plain black skirt and flowy white blouse with a long, multi-strand necklace and large gold hoop earrings in her primary holes. The others held her usual array of studs and smaller hoops.

      As she strode down the carpeted hallway, she fiddled with every part of her outfit. Was her skirt too short? Did her blouse show too much cleavage? Would the necklace draw Alexander’s eye to her breasts? Or worse yet, would the earrings pull too much of his attention to her face?

      Flirting—even flirting with danger this way—was one thing. Truly risking being recognized by her family’s