Jenna (Halliday Hotels Book 3)

Elizabeth Lennox
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 Jenna
By Elizabeth Lennox

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Copyright 2023
All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any duplication of this material, either
electronic or any other format, either currently in use or a future invention, is strictly prohibited,
unless you have the direct consent of the author.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Excerpt from “Pierce”
Chapter 1

Zahir el Sattar, Sheik of Sanaab, couldn’t hear her footsteps, but the rhythmic pounding of her running
shoes caught the overhead streetlights and grabbed his attention. As he watched, the woman came into
view for a moment, running under the streetlights that lined the path. She was wearing a black sports
bra and matching capri length leggings, which showcased her well-muscled body.
The woman didn’t want to be seen.
That was Zahir’s first thought as he watched the dark haired beauty running along the
waterfront trail. The darkness helped, but she moved from one pool of light to the next, the shifting
light and dark of the street lights and the headlights from the occasional oncoming vehicle only
bringing more attention to her.
She was gorgeous. Even in her dark running clothes, her limbs revealed her strength. The
long ponytail snapped back and forth against her shoulders, causing him to wonder if her hair was as
soft and silky as it seemed. He imagined that hair teasing his chest as she smiled down at him, her
eyes…he wondered what color her eyes were…sparkling at him as he trailed his fingers over her
bare skin.
“With five point three percentage points above the call, we can bring in another twenty-two
million.” Zahir heard the conversation behind him, but the seller, the competition, wasn’t quite where
he wanted them to be yet. He’d step in when the Destra Group was willing to come down to four
point nine. At that point, he’d offer nineteen million in cash. The representatives from Destra would
balk and argue that he was robbing them blind. But in the end, both sides knew that four point nine and
nineteen million was an excellent deal for both parties.
Meanwhile, he watched the woman as she turned, her long, powerful legs taking her back
around the edge of the ocean wall. She was heading home, he supposed. Zahir was thankful that her
return trip would allow him to continue watching the beauty, giving him a distraction for a bit longer.
It was relatively late. He wondered why she was exercising at this time of the night. This was one of
the safer areas of downtown Seattle, but it still wasn’t safe to be running alone at nine o’clock at
night. Wasn’t she nervous about predators of the human variety? Or was she oblivious to the
dangers?
He glanced at his watch, timing her as she ran past. His eyebrows lifted as he noted the
pace. She was fast! No wonder her legs were so strong.
It was Tuesday night and the woman clearly didn’t have someone to go home to. If she had,
she’d be there right now. That was sad. Everyone should have someone to go home to.
Zahir acknowledged that he didn’t have anyone either. Was she lonely? Or did she prefer the
silence of the night? Was her nighttime run her only solace from returning to a home that didn’t
contain a husband or children?
Suddenly, he realized that he was also tired of being alone. He hated going to his cold bed
every night without someone special. He had dozens of people who demanded his attention, but there
wasn’t anyone, other than his bodyguards, who would give a damn if he went running late at night.
No, he was alone as well.
Funny how that issue had never concerned him before. Why was he suddenly so viscerally
aware of his single status after watching a lovely woman running under streetlights? It wasn’t as if he
could ask her to have a drink with him. He’d probably never see her again. The possibility sent a
strange and unfamiliar pang through his chest.
When the woman ran out of his field of vision, Zahir’s attention returned to the conference
room. Impatiently, he looked at the twelve men and three women who were negotiating on his behalf.
He just wanted to buy a damn building! The seller wanted the building gone from his
portfolio and Zahir wanted to tear down the crumbling edifice so that he could build a larger complex
that would encompass three city blocks. There would be commercial and residential properties and
the entire process would clean up an abandoned area of the city along the waterfront. No one would
be ousted from their homes. There were no residents on the site in question, other than rats and the
rusting remains of a factory, all of which created a hazard for the city and the site owner.
On either side of the particular building under negotiation, there were more collapsing
buildings, unused train rails, another abandoned factory, and some wooden commercial docks that
were rotting and about to tumble into the ocean.
His purchase of this property would bring much needed taxes to the local and state
government and would allow the Destra group to off-load a property that had long been a drain on
their resources.
Zahir’s patience suddenly came to an end.
Turning, he glared at the group of people that had been sitting around the conference room
table for the past several hours, inching closer and closer to a deal.
Enough! He was sick of the games!
“Three point two points and eighteen million,” he blurted. Everyone around the table froze,
stunned by the ridiculously low offer. “That’s my final offer. Call me when you’re willing to accept
it.” He nodded firmly to his lead negotiator, indicating that they were done.
He left the conference room, too irritated to continue. As he was leaving, he heard the others
shuffling papers, standing up, and following behind him. He didn’t care. None of this mattered. He
was sick of all the stupid games and ridiculous maneuvering.
That was a dangerous position for him to be in since it was his job to care. As Ruler of
Sanaab, his entire existence revolved around caring about these kinds of issues. Well, not this
specific issue, he corrected. Buying the waterfront land and converting the area to a more productive
landscape was part of his personal portfolio, although he would most likely invest some of his
country’s wealth into the effort. But only if he was sure that the plan would make a profit.
Sometimes, he kept his country’s money out of an endeavor if there was too much risk. Zahir would
never risk the prosperity of Sanaab. Not for anything. He loved his country and his people needed to
know that their future was secure.
His bodyguards immediately surrounded him in the hallway, but he wasn’t in the mood for
their oppressive presence. He knew that he couldn’t order them to leave, but he could find a place
where they would give him some breathing room.
There was a bar in the lower level of this building. Yes, a drink was exactly what he
needed. A drink and other people. Zahir craved the presence of other humanity. People that weren’t
connected to him in any way. He needed to find a place where he could feel…normal.

Jenna Halliday stepped out of the shower and dried off. Glancing in the mirror, she
considered putting on a bit of makeup. But after a glance in the mirror at her pale, features, she
merely sighed and turned away from her reflection. She just needed some company, she told herself.
“I’m fine,” she whispered into the silence of the hotel room. “Perfectly fine.” Maybe if she
said it often enough, it would be true.
She pulled on a pair of jeans and a knit top, then pulled her wet hair up into a twist on the
back of her head. She scanned the room to ensure she hadn’t left anything in the hotel room, then
picked up her gym bag, stuffed with her sweaty running clothes, and left the room. She’d make a note
in the hotel computer system to ask the maids to clean the bathroom again before allowing any guests
to stay here.
As President of Halliday Hotels, a growing empire of hotels that spanned the world, Jenna
knew that no one would question her use of one of the empty hotel rooms to shower after her
workout. However, she was fairly certain that the night shift employees questioned her lack of a
social life since she’d finished working in her office just before nine o’clock. Again. Since she’d
been at her desk before six o’clock that morning, even Jenna was starting to question her lack of a
social life.
Walking out of the room, she made her way down to the lobby. “Good evening,” Jenna
greeted the night shift staff who were maintaining the reception area tonight.
“Good evening, Ms. Halliday,” they all chimed in, looking a bit nervous as Jenna stepped
behind the counter. “Is everything okay?”
Jenna gritted her teeth. For some reason, the question irritated her. Of course everything was
okay. Her whole life revolved around ensuring that everything was absolutely okay! She lived and
breathed for this damn place! Once a month, she spent a week traveling from one hotel to another to
ensure that each site was up to the Halliday standards, which were very high! She had no social life
because she was always, constantly, making sure that every freaking hotel was better than “okay”!
Slowly, she took a deep breath, trying to release the tension in her shoulders. “Yes,” she
forced herself to reply with what she hoped was a gracious smile. “Everything is excellent. Thank
you so much for your efforts tonight.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, the staff members puffed up with pride. That was what
they needed, she reminded herself. A bit of acknowledgement and encouragement went a long way
towards helping the staff at every level feel noticed and valued. “I’m going to put a note into the
system for tomorrow’s cleaning crew, if you don’t mind?”
 The night’s reception manager immediately stepped forward. “I can do that for you, ma’am.
What would you like the note to say?”
Ma’am. Jenna was twenty-nine years old and she was a “ma’am”. Why did that bother her
so much? Why did she suddenly feel ancient?
Because her mind was old.
Her body might be strong. She worked out religiously to ensure that she was healthy, that her
mind and body was strong enough to do whatever needed to be done. Because everything needed to
be better than “okay”.
Damn it, she was tired! Bone tired!
Forcing a friendly tone, Jenna said, “That’s okay.” She nodded politely. “I can do it.” Jenna
went to the next computer terminal and typed in a code. Normally, she did this from her office, but for
some reason tonight, the idea of going back to her office made her feel nauseous.
It took her less than thirty seconds to enter her password, log into the housecleaning system
and enter the note for the cleaning crew. Then she logged out and grabbed her bag. Turning to the
manager, she extended the bag. “Would you have someone deliver this to my office next door?”
The woman immediately took the gym bag and nodded. “Absolutely, ma’am. I’ll handle it
personally.”
Jenna smiled her thanks, not mentioning that it would be better if the manager remained in her
area of responsibility. Jenna was just too tired to explain that one of the other team members should
be assigned the task. Instead, she turned and headed out, tucking her clutch purse under her arm as she
went.
Now what? She looked around and started to pull her keys out of her purse. “I can’t do it,”
she whispered, looking down at the beautiful carpet. Even now, she wasn’t sure what to do with
herself. If she wasn’t working or exercising, Jenna was…lost.
Straightening her shoulders, she tried to breathe in, to appreciate the gorgeous lobby of the
Seattle hotel. However, her eyes misted as that taut, invisible band around her chest tightened.
Ava, Jenna’s younger sister, was brilliant at decorating. Ava had designed the downtown
Seattle décor with blues, greens, and teal. The carpeting here was a mixture of those colors,
interspersed with soft browns. Like the ocean, she thought. No, like Puget Sound on those rare days
when the sun gifted the city with warmth and joy.
Remembering that the hotel staff were probably still watching her, Jenna pulled her cell
phone out of her purse and looked at it, but she didn’t see the information on the screen. She didn’t
even flick her thumb to start reviewing the one hundred or so new emails that had arrived during her
run and shower. Nope, she simply stared blindly at the screen, trying to pull herself together.
Normally, Jenna moved through the hotel with a purpose, always striving to look and be
efficient in everything she did. She was president of the damn company and she had to be a role
model. Jenna demanded a great deal from the thousands of employees that worked at the various
hotels around the world. In return, she couldn’t give them anything less than her absolute best at all
times.
Plus, she’d hijacked her siblings’ lives by demanding they help to make that first hotel a
success. She’d ruined their lives, taken away their choices for their futures. Now they were paying
the price for her determination to scratch and claw her way out of the life of poverty that they’d been
forced to endure as kids.
Both of those issues meant that Jenna couldn’t let anyone down. This was her life.
Her penance.
Lifting her head, she gritted her teeth and walked out through the revolving doors to stand in
the cool, night air. It was late enough that even the other pedestrians who worked in the downtown
area had headed home. The rest of the world was probably at home, tucking their children into bed,
reading them stories and kissing their soft, chubby cheeks before turning out the lights. Jenna pictured
those parents linking hands as they strolled together towards their own bedrooms, moving into each
other’s arms and smiling with sensual promise. A kiss. A nuzzle. The man would…!
“Ms. Halliday, do you need a taxi?”
Jenna jumped, startled and embarrassed. The doorman doffed his hat slightly, looking at her
with curiosity and a bit of concern.
“I’m sorry?”
The doorman gestured behind her towards the line of taxis that stood waiting patiently along
the curb.
“Do you need a taxi?”
Jenna’s eyes widened and she jerked back to the present. “No. Oh, umm…no, thank you. I
have my car in the parking garage.”
The doorman bowed slightly and doffed his hat again. “Let me know if you change your
mind, ma’am.”
Ma’am. Oh, how she hated that term! She knew that it was a term of respect, but she
seriously hated it.
Instead of going to the parking garage, Jenna started walking. Not for the exercise, but more
because she just didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight. For some reason, she felt…antsy. No, that
wasn’t completely accurate. She’d been feeling this way for a while, but Jenna couldn’t quite figure
out what she was feeling. Tonight, the strange sensation was just a little more intense.
Jenna didn’t have a destination in mind. She just knew that she didn’t want to go back to her
bland townhouse and face another night all alone as she prepared for bed. She didn’t want to face the
white sheets and the white comforter of the bed set against white walls.
Unfortunately, Jenna wasn’t good with color. Whenever someone asked her to choose a
color, she froze, unable to decide. So, when she decorated her home or selected outfits, she didn’t
decide on any colors at all. Instead, she’d decorated her home in varying shades of white and tan.
Her sofa was ecru, the carpets cream and the other pieces were built in various types of wood. Her
kitchen, a space that she rarely used, had white marble countertops, white cabinets, the harshness
broken up with cream accents. Her bedroom was white with no accents. There was no color in her
house.
Her house, her life, was bland.
She glanced down at her jeans and tee shirt, and snorted in dismayed disgust. There was no
color in her wardrobe either. She had a massive closet filled with dresses in shades of black, white,
and cream. Her jewelry consisted of pearls and gold necklaces. She didn’t even stray to the “wild
and crazy” option of silver.
She was a “color coward”. Jenna snorted as she crossed the street, not seeing the buildings
as she berated herself for one failure in her life after another. Ava must have gotten all of the color
genes. Jenna’s younger sister, Ava, combined colors that shouldn’t make sense. But Ava had the
brilliant ability to make everything come out looking spectacularly good! Ava was a color genius,
which was why Ava was in charge of decorating all of the Halliday Hotels. The lobbies that Ava
decorated were brilliant and swathed in color, textures and quirky details that all combined to make
each hotel special and spectacular.
Felix, her older brother by four years, was pretty good with colors too. But his claim to fame
was insanity. He loved hanging off the side of a sky rise building, defying the laws of physics. As a
former Navy SEAL, he was capable of just about anything. Felix was the builder in the family. Felix
could take one look at a building and know exactly how to fix the problems. He could build
something from the ground up, or he could take over a structure and make it more solid.
His new wife, Giselle, was beautiful and nearly as crazy as he was. Jenna had heard them
talking about going up to the top of a building that was under construction for a picnic and dancing.
Who did that? Why would anyone enjoy sitting on the top of a building with no walls, nothing to keep
a body from plummeting to one’s death?!
And then there was Pierce, the oldest brother in the Halliday clan. He wasn’t afraid of
anything either. He had gotten a full scholarship to Harvard University. How was that even
possible? He was a freaking genius, of course.
He had graduated from Harvard and returned to Seattle, but had Jenna allowed him to join his
Harvard friends in one of the exciting jobs offered to him in Manhattan?
Absolutely not!
Jenna had guilted Pierce into helping them expand the Halliday Hotel line. It had been
singular back then. At the time of Pierce’s graduation, they’d had one little, roadside hotel. It was
near a lake and, thanks to Felix’s talents and Ava’s creativity, had expanded to small, quirky, creative
cabins tucked into the trees. As soon as Pierce came on board, he’d coaxed them into expanding to
two hotels. Then five. Then twenty! Now, there were three hundred hotels under the Halliday
corporate umbrella.
Thankfully, Pierce had kept Jenna in charge of the day to day operations of their one hotel,
and he’d used the equity in that first hotel to purchase a five hotel chain. Felix had left the Navy and
taken over renovations of that chain, Ava had decorated the buildings so that they were exciting and
welcoming, then had taken amazing photos of the building to market the place. Ava just knew what
tourists wanted, knew how to combine colors so that every hotel was different and exciting. She’d
created tourist’s hot-spots out of an ordinary hotel!
Jenna…she’d trained the staff and managed the day to day operations. The cleaning crew,
reception staff, the catering, bar, and restaurant teams were all excellent members of the Halliday
Hotels. Anyone who traveled throughout the world tried to get reservations at one of their hotels
because they knew that the quality would be excellent.
And that was her contribution to the business. She trained and managed. There wasn’t
anything exciting about what she did.
Her efforts were like her home and her clothes. Bland. Necessary, but not exciting.
Her entire life was bland.
With a huff, she turned and walked into a random bar. The cute, pub-like bar was connected
to a hotel. So technically, she was contributing to the competition, but she didn’t care. She just
wanted a drink! And she wanted to enjoy that drink while sitting among other human beings and not
alone in her bland, sterile living room. Maybe she could listen to a bit of music?
She stepped into the dark interior of the pub and instantly felt better. The wood paneling,
wood tables, and cushioned chairs were exactly what she needed. It was warm and inviting with just
enough people sitting at the tables to make her feel as if she weren’t alone in the world. There wasn’t
anything significantly interesting about the place. It was just a normal pub atmosphere. It was
perfect!
Walking up to the bar, she smiled politely at the bartender as he approached. “Can I get a
scotch please?” she asked. Since it was a week night, it was relatively quiet.
The bartender gave her the scotch and Jenna paid for it, then took the glass over to one of the
tables in the corner. She didn’t want to speak with anyone, she just wanted to…not be at her home.
Or her office.
Sitting in the corner, Jenna sipped her scotch and just…savored the relief of not being at
home. The pub’s atmosphere seemed to soothe the rage that constantly boiled inside of her. No, it
wasn’t rage, it was guilt. Her siblings had given up their lives in order to help her build this empire.
An empire that she no longer wanted.
Chapter 2

Zahir stepped into the bar, vowing that he’d figure out how to slip away from his bodyguards the next
time. He just wanted a drink in a place where no one knew who he was. There was always a low
level of tension whenever his guards surrounded him, both for himself and for the other people
impacted by their protection methods. His current five guards were annoyingly wary of anything out
of the ordinary or unplanned. They preferred to know Zahir’s exact itinerary so that they could check
out every location and determine protection strategies.
So tonight’s deviation from the expected schedule was radical. In his opinion, going to an
unanticipated bar on a week night, a place where no one knew him and no one was expecting him to
speak or consult, was a relatively safe endeavor. His guards could have stayed outside and in the
back.
But no! They had to accompany him inside and make his visit to a casual establishment for a
simple drink look obvious. There were three guards out front, two in the back, four in vehicles
around the perimeter, and the five who had accompanied him inside.
He wanted to roar with frustration. He wanted to slash the tires of the guards’ SUVs and slip
away. All he wanted was a bit of quiet. Maybe some music and a good glass of scotch. Was that too
much to ask for?
Perhaps if that pretty runner from earlier were to show up, he’d be delighted. But since that
wasn’t going to happen, he’d be satisfied with a drink. A quiet, private drink!
“A scotch, please,” he said to the bartender.
The man quickly poured a finger of scotch and Zahir slapped a fifty dollar bill down on the
counter. He turned, ignoring his guards, all of whom ordered seltzers, and surveyed the seating area,
looking for a quiet place to sip his scotch and contemplate his life.
He immediately spotted a dark corner. His guards wouldn’t like that seat since it wasn’t
defensible from all sides and they couldn’t easily see into the shadows, but just this once, Zahir didn’t
care. He was tired. Not just physically, but mentally exhausted. He was tired of thinking about the
rest of the world, about the impact of every damn decision he made and how it could influence
Sanaab or calculate the impact on twenty other countries. He wanted to think about himself for just
five minutes.
Before Zahir reached the corner table, his eyes clashed with a piercing blue gaze. Continuing
forward, Zahir watched, his body tense, his muscles anticipating battle. Why a battle? He didn’t
fully understand the reason, but his fatigue from moments ago vanished as he moved towards those
surprisingly enticing blue eyes.

Jenna watched as the group of men stepped into the bar. Were they together? For some odd
reason, she suspected that they were even though the taller man, the one with the aura of authority
surrounding him, stepped up to the bar while the other men spread out.
 She gazed down into the amber depths of her glass. Her mind was completely fizzled after
spending too long in her office dealing with problem after problem. Looking up, she took another sip
of her drink, watching the scene play out. The tall man, the one with the broad shoulders and…and
goodness, he was tall! He actually had to look down at the bartender as he ordered his drink.
Jenna’s fingers tightened around her scotch. Every cell in her body went on high alert. She
loved running, loved the sensation of feeling alive after a particularly hard run. The endorphins that
shot through her body when she pushed herself up a hill or at the end of a run seemed to make her
whole body sparkle.
But that sensation was nothing compared to what she felt as she watched the stranger order a
scotch. She lifted the glass, thinking to take a sip. But at that moment, he turned, looking directly at
her. She gasped, her breath halting in her lungs. He’d seen her? Wasn’t she hidden back here in the
corner?
She cursed the shadows, suddenly wishing she’d just gone home. She was safe at home.
Safe from this unexpected sensation washing over her, leaving her limbs weak and tingly. Jenna
didn’t like feeling out of control! Her whole life, her career, what she’d done with every aspect of
her life, was all about control! And this man, with merely a glance, had taken that from her. Jenna
felt oddly vulnerable. And yet, as he moved closer, his eyes, those dark, penetrating eyes, soothed
her. The sensations were contradictory. What she was feeling didn’t make sense!
She wanted to scream at him, tell him to go away. She definitely didn’t want company and
especially not a man who made her…feel! Jenna had come here to escape from the world. No, that
wasn’t true. She’d come here to find a sense of normalcy. She’d come here to avoid the blandness
that her life had become and the overwhelming problems she was required to resolve.
And yet, with every step he took towards her, she felt her heart pound faster. Could he hear
it? Could he see her heart make her ribs quake? Not just her ribs, but every part of her body shook as
he sat down in the seat next to her.
She couldn’t see his face clearly in the dim light, but Jenna suspected that he was very
attractive. “You are beautiful.”
As a pickup line, that one was horrible. So, why was Jenna still trembling? Why did she
suddenly feel beautiful instead of exhausted and bland? In fact, Jenna felt more beautiful than she’d
ever felt before!
Ridiculous, she thought as she shifted slightly. Was that shift a way for her to move away
from the stranger? Or closer?
“Please, have a seat,” she said, wondering why the sarcasm hadn’t appeared in her tone.
She’d meant to be sarcastic. No, she’d meant to be angry. Why was this stranger here? Why was he
talking to her and invading her private moment?
The man leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table as he cradled his glass of scotch.
“I saw you running earlier this evening.”
That was unexpected. Granted, everything about this interaction was unexpected. But Jenna
wasn’t sure how to react to his comment. Instead, she took the coward’s way out and silently sipped
her scotch.
“I saw you running along the waterfront earlier tonight,” he commented, startling her once
more. “You are an excellent runner.”
Again, she wasn’t sure what to say. She was, however, intensely grateful for the shadows that
hid the flush of happiness that suffused her cheeks.
“I’m Zahir,” he said, extending his hand.
Jenna stared at him, wondering what to do. Should she shake his hand? Should she ignore
it?
As if in slow motion, Jenna watched her hand move towards his. A shock went up her arm as
her fingers were enfolded in the stranger’s enormous hand.
She tried to pull away, but his fingers tightened around hers. She lifted her eyes higher,
frowning at him. Dark eyes, tanned features, and black hair. Even the scruff along his jawline was
dark and dangerous looking. This man was dangerous, she thought, wondering if she could run away.
But something inside of her was inexplicably drawn to him. Something about him called to
the loneliness that she’d tried to bury deep down within herself.
“Jenna,” she whispered, almost against her will. She felt his fingers tighten ever so slightly
around her hand and her heart accelerated to a truly alarming level.
He nodded ever so slightly. “Jenna. That’s a beautiful name.”
She thought about saying “Thank you,” but the words caught in her throat.
“How often do you run?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I try to get out every day.”
“For exercise or to relieve the stress from the day?”
She thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Both, I suppose.” She twirled her glass.
“What do you do to relieve stress?”
His smile was slow and knowing, making her stomach muscles tighten. “My methods
probably differ from yours.”
Jenna blinked, not sure what he meant. Then his words registered and, for a fleeting moment,
she wanted to toss her drink in his face.
Instead, she huffed and leaned back in the seat. “Well, that’s…I’m sure that there are, um,
many ways to make stress go away.”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Alas, your mind has gone down the wrong path.” He
leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’m into MMA fighting. It’s the perfect way to literally beat the
stress out of one’s mind and body.”
Immediately, she felt the tension ease. Relaxing, she glared at him, unaware of the playful
smile that crossed her face. “You did that on purpose.”
He nodded, his eyes laughing at her. “I did. I wanted to see your reaction.” He waited until
she’d huffed her frustration at him. “And yet, I also agree with your first thought. Your initial
assumption is a very effective way to relieve stress.” He tilted his head. “You don’t agree?”
She snorted and took a sip of her drink. As she swallowed the smoky liquid, she watched him
carefully. Then she tilted her head slightly, acknowledging his opinion as she commented, “Let’s just
say that, in the past, that other method created more problems than it resolved, in my experience.”
“Pity.”
Now why did that feel like a challenge? Jenna twirled her glass again. “What do you do,
Zahir?” A change of subject was a good idea since their conversation was now in dangerous
territory.
“Right now, I’m in Seattle negotiating a business deal. What do you do?”
She didn’t like his answer. Jenna felt as if he were leaving out something very significant.
Two could play at that game. “I negotiate contracts and business issues as well. Sometimes, those
transactions can be very…” she thought about it for a moment, then decided to be honest with him.
“Tedious,” she finally finished.
His lips compressed for a moment. “I agree. There are times I’d like to just slap the
opposing negotiators because I know that they’re playing a game.”
She groaned, nodding her agreement. “Exactly. Why not just get right to the point and give
someone your best offer? If that offer fits in with my business plans, then I’ll agree to the terms.” She
took another sip of her scotch. “No need to dance around it. Just play it straight and I’m more willing
to do business with you.”
He nodded. “The games seem like a pointless waste of time.”
Jenna found that she enjoyed the sound of his voice; there was a fascinating lilt to his words.
She didn’t recognize the accent. “Where are you from?”
“You don’t think I’m from Seattle?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Not a chance.”
“What gave me away?”
Jenna tilted her head slightly. “Well, for one thing, if you were from here, doing business in
Seattle, then I would have run into you at some point. There aren’t many business leaders in the city
that I don’t know.”
“Fair enough. You’re correct. I don’t normally operate out of Seattle.”
She smiled and nodded. “And secondly, your accent.”
He lifted a dark eyebrow. “What’s wrong with my accent? I thought I was pronouncing my
words perfectly.”
She pointed a finger at him, the rest of her fingers still circling her glass. “Exactly,” she
exclaimed and laughed. “If you were from here, you’d comingle some of your words. You’re too
precise. Too accurate.”
He nodded in acknowledgement. “I will endeavor to…” he paused, thinking back to her
comment, “comingle my words,” he finished. “I wouldn’t want to give all my secrets away on the
first date.”
She snorted. “No chance of that.” She lifted her glass, swirling the amber liquid around. “I
think you have a great many secrets, Zahir.”
“And do you?” he asked.
The glass froze, Jenna looking at him over the edge. “Do I what?”
“Do you have a great many secrets, Jenna?”
The sound of her name on his lips was one of the most erotic moments she’d ever
experienced. When he said her name, it literally took her breath away. She tried to hide her reaction,
but he was observant. Even in the dim lighting of the pub, she could see the heat flare in his dark
gaze.
Trying to play the seductress, she leaned in and murmured. “Oh, I have many secrets, Zahir.”
He grinned and her stomach tightened. “Will you tell me some of your secrets?”
Jenna knew that she was in over her head, but the scotch was good and Zahir was the most
fascinating man she’d ever met. Never in her life had she ever reacted to a man like this.

Zahir could tell that Jenna was more innocent than she wanted to appear. And that fact
fascinated him. She was such a beautiful woman, and yet, there was an underlying current of
hesitation in her eyes, in the tension she held in her shoulders. She was definitely hiding something,
but he didn’t get the sense that she was dangerous.
Wounded? Yes. Absolutely, she was clearly wounded. Zahir wanted to sooth the hurt that he
sensed deep down in her soul.
“I’m not sure I even know all of my secrets,” she admitted. “And I think that you might take
advantage of those secrets if I ever shared them with you.”
“Never,” he replied forcefully. All amusement vanished. “I would never hurt you, Jenna.
Others, yes. I have been known to take advantage of stupid people before. But you are intelligent and
capable. I would protect you from the world, if you would allow me that honor.”
He watched her carefully and sensed the moment when she accepted his word. He doubted
she understood the depth of his vow, but she’d learn that later. If she let him show her, that is. Jenna
wasn’t like anyone he’d met in the past. Jenna was…tentative, even though she was trying to appear
strong and sensual. She wasn’t. But he could sense the passionate woman that had been hidden for
too long.
“I think I’m in over my head with you,” she admitted.
 He took her hand again, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “You’re not. I won’t hurt you.
Just…tell me more about yourself.” He paused again. “Do you have any siblings?” With that
question, her shoulders relaxed even more.
“Yes. I have one sister who is younger than me. And I have two brothers, both of whom are
older by several years.” He could feel her trembling as he continued to stroke her hand. “Do you
have any brothers or sisters?”
“Yes. I have three sisters. They are all married with kids. I have five nieces and two
nephews. They are all adorable.”
A startled look came over her lovely features. “Are you married?”
“No. Are you?”
“No,” she replied, and gave a little sigh of relief. He liked that little sigh. He also enjoyed
the smile she gave him after. It was a touch shy, even though Jenna was trying to be seductive.
The bartender rang a bell and they both looked up. “Last call!” the man announced.
They shared a startled glance, surprised that so much time had passed. “I’m sorry!” she
whispered, pushing her glass away. There wasn’t any scotch left in it anyway. “I didn’t realize it had
gotten so late.”
“I didn’t either,” he replied, and downed the last of his drink. “Can I give you a ride home?”
Jenna eyed the empty glass pointedly. “I think we should both take a taxi home.”
He smiled easily. “I have a driver. You’ll be safe enough.”
Still, she hesitated. “Thank you. I don’t think that’s a safe idea either.”
He glanced down at her as they walked to the door. “You don’t feel safe alone with me?”
She considered his question for a long moment, then shook her head. “Actually, I feel very
safe with you,” she replied, then grinned, “said too many women over the years.”
He threw back his head, laughing with delight and nodding. “Fair enough.”
She pulled up the app on her phone that would connect her with the car service she used.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” she said while putting in her current location. When she was done,
she looked up at him. “I really needed a break tonight and you…” she grinned, feeling more confident
now. “You were exactly what I needed.”
“Give me your phone,” he asked softly, moving closer to her.
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to put my phone number in. And you’re going to call me tomorrow so
that I can take you out for dinner.”
“Dinner?” she asked, as he took the phone from her.
“Yes. This isn’t over between us, Jenna,” he assured her, inputting a series of numbers, then
returning the phone. “There. Now you have my number.” And then he did the most outrageous thing.
He leaned in and kissed her!
Jenna was so shocked that she froze. His hands cupped her jaw, his lips warm and firm
against hers. It took her several seconds before she could pull herself together enough to reciprocate.
Inching closer, she lifted one hand, bracing it on his shoulder so that she could deepen the kiss.
His groan felt like a balm to her wounded soul. He pulled her in closer and her purse
dropped to the sidewalk. She wrapped both arms around his neck, pressing closer as he deepened the
kiss even further. Jenna felt his fingers tangle in her hair, tilting her head back. There were soft
nibbles at her lips, another groan, his hands moving over her back, his tongue, the taste of scotch and
so many more sensations overwhelming her. Someone moaned and it might have been her. She
shifted again, needing more than this kiss would allow.
A honking car horn broke through the haze of lust. Jenna stared up into his dark eyes as they
worked to catch their breaths.
Jenna stepped back out of his arms, relieved when he let her go. “Goodnight,” she
whispered, bending down to retrieve her purse, then rushed to the Uber, leaping into the backseat
without checking the driver’s identification. That was something she was always careful to do and,
as the man pulled away from the curb, Jenna prayed that she hadn’t jumped from the frying pan into
the fire. She should have let Zahir drive her home, she thought as the Uber driver turned right at the
corner.
Sighing, she leaned back against the soft cushions of the vehicle. Thankfully, no conversation
was required. Apparently, the driver wasn’t in the mood to chit chat and Jenna was too stunned to
form words, much less have an intelligent conversation.
Chapter 3

“Jenna, do you have the variance reports for the–?” Pierce came to a halt in the middle of Jenna’s
office. “What happened to you?”
Jenna’s eyebrows lifted almost to her hairline. “What do you mean?” she asked, lifting a
hand to touch her face, then the neckline of her black sheath dress. She’d paired it with a double
strand of pearls and subdued black heels. She looked anxiously down at her outfit. “Did I do
something?”
Pierce flipped the file closed as he contemplated her. “Yes, you must have done something.”
She carefully patted her hair, hoping everything was still in the smooth chignon she’d pulled
it into this morning. She hadn’t eaten anything yet, and she found no stains on her front. The only
thing she’d consumed so far was tea. Did herbal tea stain one’s lips?
“Do I have something on my face?” she asked, reaching into her desk drawer for her hand
mirror.
“You don’t have anything on your face except a smile, Jenna,” Pierce explained. “Usually,
you look stressed or upset when I come in here. And when you’re out and about, you generally look
ready to stab someone.”
“I do?” she whispered, horrified. “Why didn’t you say anything before now?”
He shrugged and Jenna wondered why Pierce, who always looked perfectly put together,
seemed a bit scruffy. His tie was loosened, the top button of his dress shirt was open and his hair
was rumpled.
“What’s wrong with you?” she demanded, eyes narrowed. “Are you sick?”
Pierce shook his head, waving her question away. “We’re discussing you right now. Not me
and my troubles.”
“What troubles?” she probed. “What’s going on? Did a deal fall through?”
Pierce merely lifted a black eyebrow at her question.
Jenna laughed softly and nodded. “Okay, so not a work issue.” She came around to the front
of her desk, tapping a pen thoughtfully against her chin as she contemplated his appearance. “So,
what’s got you so frazzled?”
“Why are you smiling?” he countered.
Jenna tensed for a horrified moment before she slumped against her desk. “I really am a
grouch…all the time?”
“Yes,” Pierce confirmed. “It’s almost as if you…well, it doesn’t matter,” he sighed, rubbing
the back of his neck.
“It matters,” Jenna snapped. “If the staff are afraid to approach me because I come across as
angry, then that’s not a good thing. I need to be approachable.”
 Pierce chuckled and patted her shoulder. “Jenna, the staff adore you. They all want to be
you! You’re their hero. Everyone knows that you can solve any problem that comes up.”
Jenna didn’t know what to say to that. Nor was a response possible since her brother’s
words made her throat tighten. Yes. Capable. That was her. She solved everyone’s problems, all
day long.
Pierce asked her about a variance report and, like the dutiful businesswoman, she walked
over to her desk and pulled up the file and answered his question. “Anything else?”
Pierce looked at her curiously. “Your smile is gone.” His blue eyes looked concerned now.
“What happened? What did I say that brought back your tension?”
Jenna waved her hand in the air. “Not a thing. Just…” she smiled tightly and hoped he’d
drop the issue. Especially since she wasn’t exactly sure what was bothering her. Except for the
almost debilitating guilt over hijacking her siblings’ lives just so she could feel financially secure.
“Are you sure?”
Jenna started to nod, then said, “Are you sure we need another acquisition at this point in
time?” She clenched her hands together tightly, praying that Pierce wouldn’t notice. “I mean…” she
looked around as if her office encompassed everything. “Well, don’t we have enough? And don’t
you want to do…something else? It would be okay if you wanted to…you know…reconnect with
your college friends and…” she shrugged, not sure where she was going, so she just let her voice trail
off.
Pierce’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to the side, almost as if he were examining a
bug. “What’s gotten into you, Jenna?” Pierce asked gently as he stepped closer. “You’ve never
worried about the acquisitions I’ve suggested before. Are you concerned we won’t be able to handle
the additional debt burden?”
Jenna chuckled at that. “Not with Ava on our side,” she snorted. “As soon as she finds out
where the next acquisition will be, she’ll have a marketing plan and a new design ready for her team.
Add in Felix’s building expertise and I have no doubt that your suggested acquisition will be another
success.”
Ava would add color and glamour to the new hotels while Felix, with his knowledge of
architecture and construction, would renovate everything. Between the pair, the newest additions to
the Halliday Hotel line would become a hot tourist destination and the reservations would come
pouring in.
No, money was the least of her worries.
Pierce laughed and nodded his agreement. “They have exceptional skills.” He grinned.
“Ever wonder why they are so creative while you and I are more financially savvy?”
Every time she looked at her closet, she answered silently.
“Yeah, funny how that turned out.” She suddenly felt tight, like she was going to explode.
Gone was the happy haze she’d drifted in for the past few hours. Her regular tension was back. “Did
you need anything else?” she asked before he could ask more personal questions.
 He shook his head, tucking the file she’d just handed to him under one arm. “Nope. All
good.” He hesitated, frozen halfway through his turn to leave, his mouth opening as if he wanted to
say something more. But in the end, he merely nodded firmly and walked to her doorway. But then he
hesitated again, this time with one hand on the doorknob as he turned to look back at her. “Jenna, if
something is bothering you, you know that you can talk to me, right?”
She smiled, hoping that her expression looked more relaxed than it felt. “Yes. Of course.”
Again, he hesitated, then tapped the doorframe before he left, leaving her alone with…with what?
What did she actually have other than an inbox full of messages waiting for directions?
With a heavy sigh, Jenna sat down at her desk and looked at her email inbox. Twenty new
messages had popped up during her short conversation with Pierce. Twenty additional problems to
resolve. It wasn’t even eight o’clock in the morning, and she already knew that it was going to be a
long day.
It was at that point that Jenna remembered that she was having dinner tonight with a
fascinating and gorgeous man. Suddenly, she felt her world brighten!

Pierce saw Felix step into his office and hurried after him. “Hey, have you spoken to Jenna
lately?”
Felix turned, startled by the unexpected intrusion. “Not today, why?”
“Because she was smiling earlier.”
Felix froze, his blue eyes narrowing in suspicion. “But Jenna never smiles. She’s always so
stressed.”
Pierce nodded, glancing at the detailed variance report Jenna had handed him. When he
looked at Felix, there was more concern on his brother’s features now. “Yeah, she was smiling until I
mentioned another acquisition. Then she got all tense again.”
Felix sat down at his desk with a sigh, leaning back in the leather chair as he frowned at his
brother. “Then the real question is what got her to relax.”
“Exactly.” Pierce narrowed his eyes at his younger brother. “Have you heard if she’s seeing
someone?”
Felix shook his head slightly. “Not that I know of. But I could ask Ava.”
Pierce rolled his eyes. “I can ask Ava myself. But a better question is why we would rely on
office gossip about our sister? Why don’t we just ask her directly?”
Felix chuckled softly. “Because that’s not how we do things.”
“Why?” he demanded harshly, pacing to the window, then back across Felix’s office.
“Why?” Felix echoed, his coffee cup halted halfway to his mouth. “Why what?”
Pierce started pacing. “Why aren’t we direct with each other? Why don’t we…?” He
paused, waving his arms ineffectually. “Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever been inside your house. Nor
have you been to mine. We work together every damn day, sometimes seven days a week, twelve to
eighteen hours a day.” He stopped in front of the floor to ceiling windows, thinking hard. “We are
siblings. Why do we treat each other like co-workers?”
Felix sipped his coffee thoughtfully, then leaned back in his leather chair, lacing his fingers
over his hard, flat stomach. “Because we’re all terrified of losing even that small, tenuous connection
with each other,” he explained softly, but with a vehemence that was rare for him. “After Mom died
and Dad walked out, I joined the Navy to escape the hell of that life. And you were off at school.”
Pierce turned around, nodding with resigned acceptance. “We have a tentative connection
and all four of us are too afraid of upsetting that delicate balance.” He pressed his lips together. “It’s
wrong.”
“I agree.”
Pierce locked eyes with his younger brother. “We need to change that.”
“I agree.”
Pierce rubbed the bridge of his nose, then turned to walk out of Felix’s office without offering
a solution. But he called back over his shoulder, “Jenna needs our help.”

Jenna wrung her hands as she stood outside of Ava’s office, pacing back and forth across the
short expanse of the hallway as she attempted to work up her nerve. “This is ridiculous,” she
whispered, grateful that her sister’s assistant wasn’t at his desk. Jenna would look even sillier if
there was a witness to her anxiety.
“Who’s out there?” Ava called out.
Jenna closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them again, she squared her shoulders
and stepped into her sister’s office. “Good morning.”
Ava smiled welcomingly, but with a wary undercurrent to her smile. “Jenna? What’s up?”
Ava immediately turned away from her design board and spun around, waiting for Jenna’s
response.
Jenna felt entirely ridiculous. But she needed help and the best person to help her was Ava.
“I need…some…” she walked over to one of the large photographs on Ava’s wall. “Did you take this
one?” she asked, ignoring her problem for the moment as she admired the details of the sun rising
over Mount Rainier.
Ava walked over to stand beside Jenna, both staring at the stunning picture. Somehow, Ava
had captured pink, fuchsia, yellow, gold, and…about ten other colors as the sun light splintered over
the mountain.
“Yeah, I took that image right after that storm last week. Grant and I went hiking that
morning.” She smiled at the memories that hike conjured, tilting her head quizzically. “What do you
think?”
 Jenna swallowed the bitter taste of jealousy. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy for Ava. It was
that Jenna didn’t have any reason to smile like that. The day after that big storm, Jenna had been here
in the office working all day. She hadn’t even noticed that the rain had stopped until much later that
afternoon.
“It’s brilliant,” she whispered. “You see the world in a different way, Ava. It’s…magical.”
Ava sniffed and Jenna turned to her younger sister, noticing the sheen of tears in her eyes.
“Did I say something wrong?”
Ava shook her head, then all of a sudden, she hugged Jenna tightly. “Thank you!” she
whispered. Just as quickly, she pulled back and wiped the tear from her cheek. “Thanks,” she said
again. Ava cleared her throat and stepped away, obviously feeling awkward.
Jenna wanted to pull her sister into her arms and hug her back. But they didn’t have that kind
of relationship. Not anymore. There had been a time, long ago when they were kids, when Ava and
Jenna had been close enough to hug spontaneously. But…well, their lives had been devastated by
hardship. After their mother’s death and their father just…vanished…she and Ava had worked their
butts off to keep from starving. Ava would scrub toilets and bathtubs every morning before running
off to school. Jenna had dropped out of high school because someone needed to mind the front desk
while also doing laundry, just in case a road-weary traveler needed a place to sleep. But she’d
studied during every spare moment she had, whenever she wasn’t changing the sheets or greeting
guests, making treat baskets for the new guest suites, vacuuming the rooms, and paying the bills, Jenna
had studied until her eyes were blurry at night. She’d passed her high school equivalency exam with
a perfect score, and then earned a business degree through online courses.
Life had been too busy for hugs and quiet moments on the dock by the lake after that.
“Did you need something?” Ava asked.
Jenna opened her mouth, ready to say that she needed a longer hug. But the words got caught
in her throat. Then she remembered her original purpose for coming to Ava’s office. She’d come to
ask for Ava’s help in brightening up her world. Ava could add some color to her home and her
wardrobe so that she wasn’t wearing bland colors and living in a bland house that she absolutely
hated.
But Ava had moved back to her desk and was watching Jenna with an odd look in her eyes.
So instead of asking for advice, she said, “I just came to warn you that Pierce has another acquisition
on the horizon.”
Ava’s eyes lit up. “Oh, excellent! I’ve been yearning for a good design makeover! Things
have been a bit boring around here lately.”
Jenna wished she could say the same, but her world wasn’t boring. Her world was filled
with tedious details. She probably had another fifty emails waiting for her by now.
“Well, I’m glad that you’re excited about the prospect of more hotels coming under our
umbrella.” She felt awkward and knew that she probably sounded stiff. Ava’s eyes shuttered and
Jenna silently cursed herself.
 Not knowing what else to say, she turned and walked to Ava’s door, but she paused before
leaving and said, “You look exceptionally pretty today, Ava. I love your outfit.” Jenna glanced at the
colorful silk skirt and the knit top that hugged Ava’s slender figure. Her sister had added a beaded
necklace and small drop earrings to enhance the image.
Jenna wished that she could look that glamorous in all of those colors. But she just…she
couldn’t figure out how to put an outfit together. Especially one as daring and eye catching as the one
Ava was wearing.
“Thanks,” her sister replied.
Jenna mentally sighed when Ava looked suspicious. Were they really that distant with each
other?
Turning, she returned to her office and sat down at her desk. Somehow, she needed to fix her
life. She pulled out her cell phone and sent a text message. She was going to be daring and
outrageous in one part of her life at least. Because so far, her cautious nature hadn’t brought her much
joy!
Chapter 4

Stepping into the restaurant, Jenna had to fight back the feeling that she was doing something wrong.
That this night was dangerous.
It was just dinner. Dinner with a fascinating, incredibly handsome man!
Besides, he was a businessman, only here in Seattle for…well, she had no idea how long he
would be here.
Jenna groaned at her cautious nature. Ava wouldn’t have hesitated at going out with a
handsome man for an exciting dinner, Jenna thought. Felix would have laughed at her caution about
going out to dinner with a man, and Pierce would have…Jenna smiled when she considered Pierce’s
reaction. He’d probably have the man investigated. But since she only knew his first name, it wasn’t
likely that Pierce would get much information.
Nervously, she smoothed a hand down over her black dress, wondering if she should have
gone home and changed before coming here. But she was here now.
Jenna walked up to the hostess, smiling politely. “I’m here to meet–”
“This way, ma’am,” a tall, bulky man interrupted, smiling politely.
“Oh, I just…?” That’s when she recognized the man from last night. He’d been sitting at the
bar. There had been several men doing that. And they’d all left at the same time she and Zahir had
stepped out of the bar.
Bodyguards, she realized. Jenna had dealt with important business leaders before. There
were several business men and women who needed protection because of their wealth or the role
they played in the world.
She followed the man down a back hallway to a private dining room set up with a single
table. Standing in the middle of the room was Zahir in a dark suit, crisp, white dress shirt and a red,
silk tie.
He looked amazing!
“Zahir,” she whispered, feeling the day’s tension melt away from her shoulders. She almost
raced over to him, wanting to kiss him and feel his impossibly strong arms around her waist. But the
cautious side of her personality prevailed and she lingered just inside the door as it closed behind
her.
“May I get you something to drink, ma’am?”
Jenna jumped and blinked at the waiter that was standing patiently to her left. Where had he
come from?
Good grief, he’d probably been in the room the whole time. She’d had eyes only for Zahir.
“Um…a glass of white wine would be lovely,” she told the waiter. “A chardonnay.”
The waiter bowed, then hurried away to get the wine. That brought her attention back to
Zahir who was still standing in the same place. Jenna told herself to look around, to find out if there
were others in the dining room. But her eyes refused to look anywhere but at Zahir.
“You look lovley,” he said, his deep, husky voice sending shivers racing down her spine.
Jenna made a mental note to congratulate herself because she’d remembered his voice exactly. Her
dreams hadn’t exaggerated the impact of that voice.
“Thank you,” she croaked, then cleared her throat. “You look very handsome.” Oh, that
word. “Handsome”. It just didn’t do justice to his appearance. He looked…decadent. Devilish!
The man looked like something delicious that she’d love to devour.
“Are you going to stay over there by the door?”
Jenna thought about that for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. I think I am.” She lifted her chin,
glaring at him. “What are you going to do about it?”
Before he could answer, the waiter arrived with a glass of wine on a tray. Jenna almost
laughed out loud at the frustration in Zahir’s eyes. Thankfully, the waiter quickly disappeared,
leaving them alone.
At least, she hoped they were alone. She still wasn’t able to pull her gaze from his darkly
intense glare.
“I think you’re going to pay for that,” he growled.
Jenna’s shoulders straightened. Suddenly…unexpectedly…a daring, outrageous woman
emerged from beneath the layers of caution. She felt her lips curl into a playful smile and she
whispered, “Promise?”
Who was this seductress? Jenna didn’t know where she’d come from, but the surge of power
at the heat in Zahir’s eyes was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
“Absolutely,” he replied back, then walked over to her. He set his glass of wine on the table,
then took hers away as well. Jenna had a brief glimpse of the two glasses sitting innocently on the
table before he was right in front of her, towering over her like a mountain. She shivered again, but
tightened her grasp on her control as he gazed down at her. “Jenna, we should order dinner quickly.”
The air seemed to shimmer between them. It sizzled with sexual tension. It made her feel
even more powerful and her smile widened. “Why?” she whispered, gazing up into his dark eyes,
daring him to kiss her. She needed to be kissed more than she needed air. She needed to feel his
hands on her body. She felt the trembling anticipation as she dared him. Challenged him!
“An excellent question,” he murmured, as he leaned in.
He was kissing her before she took another breath and it was…spectacular! Kissing him was
better than anything she’d ever experienced. Her various business successes, buying her townhouse,
her first car…none of those experiences could compare to the thrill she felt right now. She opened her
mouth for him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pressed her body against his.
Obviously, her reaction wasn’t enough for him because he pulled her in closer. And not even
that was close enough. Jenna felt him swing her around and she felt the wall against her back as Zahir
lifted her higher, his rock-hard thigh pressing between hers. She gasped at the intimate connection as
well as the pressure against the throbbing nub between her legs.
But it still wasn’t enough! Shifting her hips against him, Jenna grabbed onto his head, pulling
him lower so that she could deepen the kiss. She gasped against his lips as her body climbed higher.
Shocked at her body’s reaction to just a kiss, she couldn’t stop herself from continuing to move
against him until…!
“No!” she yelled when he abruptly pulled away from her.
“Come with me!” he snarled, taking her hand and practically dragging her out of the dining
room. He led her into an elevator and her desire-hazy mind warned her that this wasn’t a safe idea.
But she didn’t want to stop.
“Next one!” he snapped to the men who were about to crowd into the elevator with them.
Jenna sighed with relief and then gasped as the doors to the elevator closed and he pulled her
back into his arms. Again, she found herself pinned against the elevator wall. His mouth found hers
again. Unfortunately, his strong hands kept her hips away from his and she whimpered.
“Cameras,” he groaned, moving from her lips to her neck.
Jenna tried to understand. But the words didn’t make any sense in the heat of the moment.
She closed her eyes, tipping her head back so that he could reach more of her throat. He tickled and
teased and she sighed, still reaching desperately for that elusive release.
The elevator doors opened and he pulled reluctantly away. “This way,” he whispered, taking
her hand and leading her into what she assumed was the penthouse suite. “Now…let’s try that
again.”
He took her into his arms, pressing her back against the wall. Jenna gasped, moaned and…
and he captured her moan in his mouth as he kissed her, his strong arms pressing her up against the
wall so his thigh could press between her legs again.
Jenna’s eyes almost crossed as pleasure and need ripped through her like a wild fire. Every
cell in her body clamored for release. Dignity and caution were meaningless when her body was this
close to a climax. She kissed him back, her arms circling his neck as her fingers dove into his dark,
silky hair. She needed…just one more…!
“Yes!” she screamed, pulling her mouth away from his. He sucked a spot on her neck that
seemed to increase the pleasure washing over her. It came from every angle, every throb centered on
that spot between her legs.
Slowly, her body eased and the waves of pleasure diminished to small pulses. She loosened
her arms around his neck and sighed.
“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered roughly into her ear.
Jenna laughed, feeling like a limp noodle. She tried to speak, but her lips weren’t following
her brain’s orders.
She whimpered when he pulled back slightly, the cold air suddenly hitting her body, rousing
her fizzled mind. But before she could make sense of that coldness, he scooped her up into his arms.
Jenna wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder as he carried her through the
enormous suite.
In the back of her mind, she thought that she should look around at the suite, make notes about
the competition. But life was just too wonderful just now to think about something as grounding as
work. Plus, she was tired of working. Right now, she wanted to revel in the beauty of just being.
He carried her into a lovely suite where the lights had already been dimmed and the bed
linens turned down.
“Think you can do that again?” he asked, lowering her feet to the ground.
Jenna smiled up at him, feeling shorter for some reason. No shoes. She might have laughed
at that, but Zahir started kissing her again.

Zahir let his hands slide along her waist, her back, her bottom. Jenna felt soft and beautiful in
his hands, like clay in the hands of an expert potter. He couldn’t wait to see her climax again. He
wanted to feel her climax around his throbbing erection and stare into her eyes as he pleasured her.
“I’m going to make love to you, Jenna,” he warned her.
She smiled up at him. “I would like that.”
Slowly, he lowered the zipper on her dress, turning her around so that he could kiss the nape
of her neck as it was bared to his gaze. She had a lovely back and he enjoyed the way she shivered
when he kissed the space between her shoulder blades. “Ticklish?” he asked, rubbing his faintly
scruffy cheek across that lovely bare skin.
“A little.” She smiled at him over her shoulder and he felt her fingers on his thighs. “But I
like it when you kiss me there.”
In response, he let his fingers trail down over that same spot and he heard her gasp in
surprise. “Definitely ticklish,” he declared with a satisfied chuckle. “Where else on your body are
you ticklish?”
She laughed, feeling free and…and incredibly sexy. “I didn’t know I was ticklish there, so
your guess is as good as mine.”
“I’m going to find every ticklish spot you have, whether you knew about it yet or not,” he
vowed, kneeling behind her. He pulled her dress down and carefully lifted each foot so that he could
extricate her from the material. Then he pulled her satin panties down, doing the same ritual before
tossing the panties away.
He would have laughed at her modesty when she turned around, hands fluttering in front of
her in an attempt to shield herself from his gaze, but his position gave him the perfect view of her hips
and the dark curls hiding her femininity. His mouth watered and he couldn’t wait to taste her.
“Sit,” he ordered, taking her hands to turn her so that she sat on the edge of the bed. He
reached out and slowly opened her knees wide, revealing all to him.
 “You don’t…!” she gasped as he caressed her glistening folds. She gripped his wrist and he
looked up at her in surprise. “You don’t need to do this. I’ve already had my…um…well, you
know.”
Zahir laughed, delighted by her shyness. It was refreshing, and it would be a challenge to rid
her of her inhibitions. It would be his greatest pleasure.
“Do you not like this?” he asked, silently praying that she wouldn’t deny him. He could smell
her arousal and wanted to taste her, to feel her climax against his tongue.
“I just…it’s…umm…it’s too hard.”
He didn’t understand. But he couldn’t stop touching her. She was still holding his wrist, but
her grip wasn’t very tight. So he let his fingers tease the soft skin on her inner thighs. If his finger
touched that lovely nub once or twice, and she happened to gasp each time, well…he was just waiting
for her to answer his question.
“Guide me,” he told her. “If you show me how you like to be touched, it won’t take as long.”
Even though he vowed he was going to enjoy this for as long as he could!
They stared into each other’s eyes, the air throbbing with desperate need. When his finger
flicked against that sensitive nub one more time, she gasped, her back straightening.
Then very slowly, she brought his hand to her core. He dipped his finger into her wet heat,
then used her own moisture to slowly, carefully rub that nub. She stiffened, but he felt her hand press
his fingers against her, lifting one finger higher to slightly change the angle.
Every hiss and gasp was music to his ears, making his shaft throb harder. One moment, he
wanted to slam into her and the next, he wanted to enjoy every reaction he could elicit from her.

Jenna couldn’t believe what she was feeling. Had she really just enjoyed an orgasm within
just moments? And was she seriously about to experience another? She’d avoided sex for the past
several years because…well, what was the point? She’d never received any pleasure from the act so
she didn’t see a reason to waste her time.
But now…whoa!
“I think…!”
“Don’t think,” Zahir urged, standing and pulling off his clothes.
Whatever Jenna might have said was lost as she watched the man strip off his clothes. Every
part of him was tanned and ripped with muscles. She longed to reach out and feel those muscles, but
held back.
Until he placed her hands on the ridges of his rock hard abs. Her fingers explored, tested,
and teased those muscles while Zahir pulled off his slacks, kicking them away. Since Jenna was still
sitting on the bed, his erection was there. Right there! She was eye to eye with his impressive
erection. And she couldn’t resist.
 Her mouth closed over his quivering shaft and she tasted, licked, and teased his shaft,
enjoying the way he hissed as her hot mouth closed around his erection. She was lost in a haze of
desire, licking and teasing until he pulled away, leaning in to kiss her as he pushed her back against
the mattress. He loomed over her, stretching out so they touched from head to toe.
“I need you now, Jenna!” he groaned, sliding into her heat.
He thrust deeply into her and she gasped, feeling him fill her up as he began to move. She
grabbed his rock-hard butt and held on for dear life! When he pushed into her, she lifted her hips,
needing still more. “Yes!” she yelled, her voice raw as she shivered with his invasion. It was so
perfect, she couldn’t seem to slow down and didn’t want to. “Faster!” she ordered.
He moved faster and Jenna might have laughed, thrilling with every shiver, every touch of
friction between their bodies. Miraculously, she felt herself tighten, shocked that she was about to
reach another beautiful round of pleasure. But nothing could have prepared her for the shock when
her body exploded into a zillion pieces. She clung to Zahir, additional shivers washing over her as he
continued to pound into her until he roared with his own pleasure.
When he collapsed on top of her, Jenna felt as if her world, which for so long had felt slightly
off kilter, had somehow righted itself. The burden of the emails, the hotels, even her guilt about her
siblings, melted away. Her world shrank down to just her and Zahir, their bodies still thrumming with
pleasure and she hugged him tightly.

Zahir felt Jenna’s arms tighten around him and he smiled against her breast. He knew that he
was too heavy, but he couldn’t seem to pull himself together enough to move. She was so
tantalizingly soft, and he didn’t want the moment to end.
Whatever the hell he’d just experienced, it was new and overwhelmingly powerful. Never in
his life had sex entirely taken him over like that. Hell, he hadn’t even taken his time to explore her, to
find more of those ticklish places on her body that tickled or turned her on.
That’s when he felt her fingers stroking his back and he lifted his head, looking down at her.
Jenna’s eyes were closed, her breathing soft and a dreamy smile played across her face that made his
body harden all over again.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, rolling to the side of her so that he could look at
her.
Jenna laughed and curled into his body. “Isn’t that supposed to be the woman’s line?”
He laughed as well, wrapping an arm around her, pulling her even closer. “Maybe. But you
looked so content that I had to ask.”
She rubbed her cheek against his chest, sighing with contentment. She was like a kitten, he
thought, smiling at the contrast of the tightly contained woman that had sat in the shadows at the corner
table of a bar…the same woman who was kissing her way up his chest right now.
“I am very content.”
 He laughed, lifting a hand above his head, reaching for a pillow so he could prop his head up
and look at her. “Are you hungry?”
Jenna had just rested her head against his shoulder when he asked her that and she froze. A
moment later, she tilted her head back, stared wide eyed at him. “Oh dear!”
Immediately, his sense of contentment disappeared. “What’s wrong?”
She covered her mouth with her hand, smothering a laugh, so he relaxed slightly. “We just…
sort of raced out of the dining room, didn’t we?”
He thought about that for a moment, then threw back his head, laughing at the shocked
expressions of the dining room wait staff as he’d practically dragged Jenna out of the private dining
room. “Hell!” he muttered between chuckles. “Well, at least they will have something interesting to
talk about.”
Jenna stilled, her eyes wide. He frowned down at her, more aware of her body’s reactions
than he’d ever cared to be with any of his past lovers. “What’s wrong?”
“You don’t think…they won’t gossip about our hasty departure…will they?”
He rolled onto his side, cupping her cheek gently. “Not a chance. My staff will ensure their
silence. I don’t allow anyone, not even hotel staff, to discuss my private life. Anything less than
complete discretion will be met with severe consequences.”
She chewed her lower lip worriedly, but he was becoming distracted by the expanse of bare
skin before him. He ran a delicate finger along her collarbone as he watched her think it through.
“But…they know me. I’m a public figure here in Seattle. They might maintain your privacy,
but I doubt they’ll provide me with the same level of discretion. In fact, the hotel staff might think it
was hilarious to gossip about me.”
“They won’t,” he vowed, stroking her cheek to emphasize his words. “I’ll make sure of it.”
He could see the lingering doubt in her eyes, so he did the only thing he could to distract her.
He kissed her. And that kiss led to another. And another. Before they realized what was happening,
they were making love all over again. Slower this time. They were both more thorough in their
explorations and Zahir found several more places on her body that were ticklish.
And afterwards, with the silence of the night surrounding them, Jenna told Zahir about her
day, about her fears about not having food or shelter. Perhaps it was the fact that he was still
basically a stranger, or maybe she just felt more comfortable in the darkness, but she revealed more to
him than she had to anyone else. Amazingly, he told her about his life too. About his childhood and
studying with private tutors, how he hated reading the classics but loved biographies, loved the heat
of the desert and thought that anyone who lived in a place that snowed should be institutionalized for
insanity. They laughed together, commiserated about childhood fears and whispered of foods they
liked or disliked.
It was the most amazing time and, afterwards, they fell into a deep sleep, wrapped in each
other’s arms.
Chapter 5

“Oh no!” Jenna gasped, her eyes popping open as she came awake. Strange room. Warm, male body
behind her, and…!
“No!” she whispered again.
The arm around her waist tightened and she froze, wondering if Zahir was awake. What had
she done?
His hard, muscled body pressed closer against her and Jenna felt the warmth of his breath
wash over her back. The man was spooning her. It felt surprisingly cozy, she thought and wondered if
it would be horrible of her to simply sink into his heat and enjoy the sensations of being surrounded
by Zahir for another few moments.
Then she caught sight of the window. The sun was coming up over the horizon. She should
be showering or heading out for a run. Or even better, she should be at her desk working on the
issues that had come up overnight!
She should not be lying in bed with a man…a stranger really…and hoping to roll over and
make love with him again.
No, not make love. She wanted sex. That’s all this was. It was sex. Pure, primal sex. She
shivered, thinking of all the “pure, primal sex” they’d had last night.
Then her stomach growled. They’d skipped dinner last night. Every time they’d touched,
desire and lust would explode between them and they never got around to ordering room service.
Room service. Hotel! She was sleeping in the competition’s penthouse suite! This was the
Raydian Hotel! Halliday’s top competitor! She could be considered a traitor if she was discovered
staying in the competition’s hotel! Pierce would be furious if he found out.
No, Jenna admonished as she tried to figure out how to extricate herself from the bed and
Zahir’s arms. Her issue wasn’t that she was in the competition’s hotel. That was just an excuse that
allowed her to ignore the fact that she’d just slept with a man and she didn’t even know his last name!
Carefully, Jenna slid out from under his arm. She was still naked and wished she could
cover herself with something, but that wasn’t going to happen. So she slid to the side of the bed and
stood up naked, grabbing her scattered clothing. She’d find her shoes later, once she was dressed.
Slipping into the bathroom, she gasped when she saw her hair. It was a mess! Her normally
sleek mane was going every which way, as if someone had run his hands through her hair, or tugged at
it while he pounded into her over and over again.
Shivering, Jenna pushed the memories away and forced herself to focus on the present. On
getting dressed and out of this penthouse without waking Zahir. She’d worry about her hair another…
no, she’d need to calm the raging rat’s nest because there was no way she was going to risk being
recognized coming out of a hotel room with her hair looking this tousled.
Once she was dressed, she finger combed her hair so that it was at least presentable. Jenna
used a washcloth to wipe away the mascara smudges from underneath her eyes, then looked critically
at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look like herself, but at least she didn’t look like she’d just spent
the night having wild sex.
“It will have to do,” she whispered, then turned away from the mirror. Opening the bathroom
door, she peered into the bedroom. Thankfully, Zahir was still asleep. He’d rolled over onto his
stomach with one arm stretched out, as if he were reaching for her. For a moment, Jenna considered
going over to him and giving him a goodbye kiss. But he probably didn’t want that. Men usually
preferred it when a woman just left without any fuss. At least, that was her experience. She’d only
dated two men over the past several years and both of them had been…well, not morning people.
Okay, they’d been bastards. Jenna understood that she chose men because she wanted to
punish herself for what she’d done to her siblings. She couldn’t allow herself to find happiness
knowing they were so miserable.
But Ava was deliriously happy with her new husband. And Felix…he was passionately in
love with Giselle.
So maybe she’d only ruined Pierce’s life. Maybe she wasn’t such a horrible person? Maybe
she was…?
Jenna didn’t know what she was, other than a woman stuck in a man’s hotel room. She’d had
sex with a stranger, so what did that make her?
Lifting her chin and straightening her shoulders, she told herself that she was just a normal
woman with a healthy sexual appetite. An appetite that had been ignored for years. Sex in the past
had been something she’d done in order to earn affection from the men who came into her life. But
she’d never received affection from those men. Unconsciously, she’d banished relationships from her
life because they’d been so unsatisfying in the past.
Jenna glanced at the sleeping man in the bed, his muscles relaxed now, but still visible. Zahir
was still mouth-wateringly appealing. A part of her considered the possibility of kissing him awake,
begging him for another round of mind-blowing sex before she hurried back to her office.
But Jenna’s tender, abused heart knew that another round with Zahir would be a bad idea.
She was looking for affection and had found sexual satisfaction. Mind-blowing, limp-bodied,
incredibly intense satisfaction. That would have to be enough.
Turning away from him, she looked for her shoes. She found one under the bed and the other
over by the door. She held her shoes in her hands as she tiptoed out of the room. Only once she was
in the living room did she put her shoes on.
When she was finally dressed, Jenna smoothed her hands over her hips, checked her purse
for her phone and wallet and, finding both, took a deep breath and walked to the door with as much
dignity as she could muster.
Thankfully, she didn’t run into anyone on her way out of the hotel. Once the elevator opened
to the lobby, she kept her eyes straight forward, not acknowledging the reception staff as she headed
directly towards the exit.
 When she was finally out on the street, Jenna breathed a sigh of relief that she was finally out
of the hotel.
“Can I get you a taxi, ma’am?”
Jenna turned, startled by the unexpected voice. It took her a moment to remember how to
respond. “No. Thank you, but I have a car–” she stopped explaining and simply smiled politely. “I’m
fine,” she told the doorman.
He tipped his hat and politely smiled back at her, returning to his position at the entryway.
Jenna walked the two blocks back to the Halliday Hotel headquarters, then headed up the
stairs into the parking garage. Her car, a sedate, white sedan, was parked right where she’d left it last
night. Thankfully, she was able to drive away without running into any other staff members.

Zahir woke up, eager to kiss Jenna awake and…maybe make love again? No, she would
probably be too sore after last night. He’d been too voracious last night, but in his defense, every
time she’d touched him, she’d set his body on fire.
But as soon as the haze of sleep cleared, he realized that Jenna wasn’t in the bed with him.
Nor was she in the bathroom washing away last night’s lovemaking. She was probably out in the
main area, sipping coffee and eating breakfast. He hoped she’d ordered waffles. They were his
favorite. Damn, he loved waffles. They were such an American delicacy. So decadent. The
Americans loved putting fruit and whipped cream on their waffles, but he preferred just butter and
maple syrup. There was something hedonistic about maple syrup, he thought as he stepped into the
shower and washed off the scent of sex from last night. He remembered making love to Jenna in the
shower last night and the erotic memories made his body harden.
Reminding himself that she was probably sore from last night’s adventures, he used his hand
to ease his need, then washed again and tried to appear calm.
With a towel wrapped around his waist, Zahir shaved, brushed his teeth, and combed his hair
before getting dressed. He didn’t bother with a tie, and considered cancelling his meetings this
afternoon so that he could spend more time getting to know Jenna.
Moving out of the bedroom, he looked around. But the dining area was empty. The coffee
service was present, but Jenna was nowhere to be found.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” the suite’s butler greeted him respectfully, bowing slightly.
“May I order breakfast for you?”
Zahir’s hands clenched into fists. Jenna had left him. She’d snuck out of the suite before
he’d woken up this morning.
For a moment he was angry with her. But then, he remembered her hesitant response to his
lovemaking and realized; she wasn’t used to this.
Nor was he, Zahir reminded himself. This anger he felt because she wasn’t here, waiting for
him to wake up, was unexpected and, if he were honest with himself, baffling. In the past, if he’d
woken to find the woman who had satisfied him the previous night had already left, he would have
been relieved.
But not this time. He was livid. He wanted to find her and spank her sexy ass, then make
love to her until she didn’t have the breath to argue.
He pulled out his phone and pulled up her contact information. That’s when he remembered
that it was a weekday. A workday for the rest of the world. Zahir didn’t have weekends, per se. He
took time off when he needed a break and otherwise kept working when it was required of him. He
suspected that it was the same with Jenna. She wasn’t someone who would ignore her duties. So he
suspected that she was already at her desk, working through the issues that had cropped up overnight.
Instead, he typed up a message. “Thank you for last night. I hope to see you again. Soon.”

Jenna stepped out of the shower and walked barefoot to her closet, eyeing the dresses
hanging there. They were carefully packed in dry cleaning bags; her housekeeper was quite efficient
about drop-offs and pickups of her clothing. But none of the dresses appealed to her.
She wanted something fun and interesting. She wanted color and excitement!
Instead, she lifted a cream colored dress from the rack, glaring at it. “You’re tedious,” she
sneered at the dress.
But since she needed to hurry up and get into the office, she slipped the dress on and zipped it
up. The pleated skirt and tailored bodice were fine. There was nothing interesting about the dress. It
was made of non-wrinkling linen that smoothed over her figure perfectly. It felt a touch looser than
she preferred, but Jenna knew that she hadn’t been eating well lately.
Point of fact, she’d skipped dinner last night and wasn’t in the mood to eat this morning. So
instead, she slipped into matching cream colored heels, added a sedate gold chain necklace, gold stud
earrings, and pulled her hair back into a sleek twist. Makeup and a cup of coffee, then she was ready
to head into the office.
Refusing to let her thoughts linger on last night, she pushed herself hard. She didn’t look at
her phone until lunch, when her assistant brought in a sandwich for her. She ate half of it while
answering email messages, then turned to sift through her text messages.
The tenth message stopped her mid bite. “Thank you for last night. I hope to see you
again. Soon.”
What did that mean? Was she a booty call now? A hookup? Jenna finally thought about last
night. The glass of wine. No dinner. He’d reserved a private dining room for them, but she’d been
so intoxicated by the sight of him last night, they’d barely taken a moment to think about dinner. Hell,
she hadn’t even finished the wine the waiter had brought her!
Now he wanted more?
She leaned back in her chair thoughtfully. She could take this with either a positive or a
negative view. Either he thought of her as a booty call or he’d enjoyed last night just as much as she
had.
Her fingers hovered over her cell phone, wondering how she should respond. “I think…”
“There’s a fire at the Orlando site,” her assistant announced, having stuck her head into the
room.
For a moment, her mind blanked. A fire? Felix was adamant about the numerous fire safety
features in every hotel. “How bad is it?” she asked, her heart beginning to pound as she began to
think through all of the possible dangers of a fire. Even a small one could cause problems for people
who weren’t aware of the fire. Smoke could kill people. And what about the guests who were
disabled and couldn’t get out easily? Or families with small children? Elderly guests who might
need additional help getting out safely. Not to mention possible property damage!
“The firefighters have already been called.”
Jenna stood up, forgetting the text message as she went into damage control mode. She
tucked the phone into her purse. “Get the jet ready for me. I’ll fly out as soon as possible.”
“Already called. The pilot is standing by.”
Jenna nodded, wondering if she had time to head to her house to grab some clothes. No,
she’d just fly out to Orlando and get more clothes once she’d landed. Jeans and a tee shirt were all
she’d need for an emergency like this. She’d need her makeup though.
“I need to go to my house first,” she decided, spur of the moment. “Tell the pilot I’ll be there
in forty minutes.”
Her assistant nodded and disappeared. Jenna collected her purse and hurried out the door.
Pierce tried to intercept her as she rushed down the hallway. “You heard?” he asked, as she stepped
around him.
Jenna nodded without slowing down. “I’m on my way.”
“Take Felix with you,” Pierce called after her. “He might be useful.”
“Good idea. Do you know where he…?”
Felix came out of his office, his phone pressed to his ear. “I’m here,” he announced, walking
rapidly down the hallway. “I just need some stuff from my house. Giselle is working from home
today. She’s on her way with a bag.”
“I’m heading home now. I’ll meet you at the airport.”
He nodded, and they went down the elevator together, each on their phones, speaking with
their contacts in the Orlando area.

The flames were so loud! Most people aren’t aware of just how loud a building fire could
be. It was an awe-inspiring sight! It wasn’t just the noise, the flames, or the destruction. It was the
chaos that occurred immediately upon discovery, and the pandemonium that invariably erupted.
Emergency personnel, especially fire fighters, rushed about, water hoses everywhere, police tried to
corral the curious onlookers and even street traffic slowed to take a look. There were five traffic
accidents in the nearby area immediately after the flames started shooting through the windows of the
small building off to the right of the hotel.
Yes, fires were a shocking sight.
Another thing people didn’t know about fires, they were generally not that easy to ignite. Oh,
someone could easily light a campfire or a grill. And the idiots who smoked cigarettes or lit
campfires in the brutally dry west and Midwest regions could just casually toss their cigarette to the
ground, thinking that they’d extinguished it by grinding the cigarette butt into the dirt. Ten or fifteen
minutes later, maybe even several hours later, the embers that weren’t entirely put out would flare up
into a massive forest fire.
However, a building fire? That was a whole different beast! Older homes made from wood
and plaster…those would go up in a quick poof. But newer buildings? They were a bit more
difficult to ignite and, once they were started, those fires were significantly more difficult to put out.
Especially a hotel fire. Hotels and commercial or retail sites were built with spider webs of
sprinkler systems. Every damn room, every hallway and public space were covered from one end to
the other with sprinkler systems. So, ensuring that the whole building caught fire required careful
planning. It mandated multiple flash points and knowledge of the sprinkler system, so that the
protectiveness of the sprinklers was effectively destroyed.
The giggle that bubbled up was dangerous. Laughter during a tragedy would attract attention.
However, as someone with such a love of watching a fire burn, it was difficult to contain one’s
excitement. Right now, there were flames shooting out of four windows. Soon, very soon, the glass
would shatter. The fire fighters would be confused and would scatter. However, the sprinkler system
had been disabled, so…!
The flames in two of the windows went out! What? How was that possible! The fire
fighters hadn’t even reached those floors yet! The guests of the hotel hadn’t even been evacuated! In
fact, some people in the main building were arguing that the fire wasn’t even in the actual hotel and
they shouldn’t need to evacuate. So why wasn’t the rest of the building going up in flames? There
was no way the fire fighters could have figured out the specific rooms where the fires had been set!
The other fires, the secret ignitions that were meant to go off after the original flames became
present…why weren’t they igniting? What was going on? The planning that had gone into this fire
had taken months to develop! So why was this happening? Or more accurately, why weren’t the
other fires happening? Moments later, as everyone watched with morbid fascination as the other two
fires went out and…even the fire fighters seemed more relaxed now!
No, this couldn’t be happening! The sprinkler system had been disabled! Why had the plan
not worked?

Jenna closed her eyes as she relaxed back into the leather seat of the private plane. Again,
she thanked Pierce for purchasing several private planes. It made her flights to the various hotels
significantly easier, faster, and safer, not to mention more comfortable. And today, it allowed her and
Felix to literally jump onto the plane. They were already halfway to Orlando. She’d just gotten word
that the fires at the hotel were out and there was no significant damage to the rooms. Just some smoke
and water damage caused by the sprinkler systems that quickly put out the fires.
The flight attendant put another cup of coffee on the table in front of Jenna, and backed away.
Jenna called out to thank her, then turned to Felix. “What have you heard?” she asked as soon as her
brother ended his call.
He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed as he relaxed as well. “The new sprinkler system
that I installed last year saved the day. Apparently, the main system was tampered with, but because
of the redundancies that the fire guy convinced me to install, the tampering wasn’t effective.”
“There were four other fires that were about to explode,” she told him. “Lance, the hotel
manager, is working with the fire department and fire marshal. They’ve opened an official arson
investigation.”
“That’s not good,” Felix groaned.
“No, on the positive side, the staff efficiently evacuated everyone from the building.
Thankfully, the fire started during the middle of the day so there weren’t many people in the rooms.
The majority of the guests were on the beach or exploring the tourists attractions.”
Felix sighed, nodding his head, but his eyes remained sharp as he asked, “I thought it started
in the morning? We got the call just as I came into the office this morning.”
Jenna laughed, shaking her head. “Time zone change? The fire started around eight o’clock
Seattle time. That means it was around eleven Orlando time.” She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her
nose. “That’s prime beach time in Florida.”
“I’ve spoken to the hotel engineer. He’ll work with the fire department as well. He’s a good
man, very knowledgeable.”
“I thought the engineer at the Orlando site was Monica something or other?”
Felix shook his head, stealing her cup of coffee and downing more than half its contents. He
returned the cup, ignoring Jenna’s scowl. “No, she quit a while ago.”
Jenna lifted the cup, prepared to down the rest of the coffee. It had been a long night, but she
paused to ask, “Why? I thought she was one of the good ones.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know officially why she quit. But she got a job at another place. A
commercial facility in Miami. She got married and, from what I’ve heard, she is living the good
life.”
“Good for her!” Jenna whispered, then glanced down at her phone. Nothing. There was the
one text message from Zahir earlier this morning, but nothing since.
She should text him back and let him know she wasn’t ignoring him. It was the polite thing to
do, and yet, she hesitated.
She was scared. She didn’t want to text him back for fear that she’d say something too
personal. Or too intimate. She didn’t want to scare him away.
 She glanced over at Felix, about to ask his advice on what a good response would be. But
wouldn’t that be weird? Felix was a big guy and a protective brother. He wouldn’t like hearing that
his younger sister was having a wild affair with a man she barely knew. Good grief, she still didn’t
know Zahir’s last name! Why couldn’t she hold herself together when around Zahir? What was it
about him that caused her to lose her mind and her control?
Just thinking about her lost control, she unconsciously smiled, wiggling in her chair. He
really did know how to make her go a bit crazy. And she’d done the same back to him. He loved it
when she touched him. When she did that thing with her tongue…!
“Stop it!” Felix growled.
Jenna jerked back to the present. “Stop what?” she asked, feeling her cheeks turn red.
“Stop…” he pointed to her unusually pink cheeks. “Stop thinking whatever it is you’re
thinking about, because I’m pretty sure that it’s sexual.”
Jenna laughed softly. Unfortunately, her phone kept buzzing with more messages and she was
back to work. She and Felix shared information back and forth until the plane landed in Orlando.
Thankfully, Jenna’s assistant was incredibly efficient, so there was a car waiting for them, ready to
take them right to the hotel.
When they arrived, the fire trucks were gone, but there was still a lot of water all over the
parking lot. The walls around two windows were blackened and two other windows were broken,
shattered by the heat. The hotel guests were back in their rooms, the hotel manager providing free
meals for the night.
For the next several hours, Jenna met with the police and fire inspectors. She tried to keep
her mind on the investigation, but she kept flashing back to last night and wishing that she was still in
Seattle where she could sit down and have a quiet drink with Zahir in a dimly lit pub. They could
relax together. He could rub her shoulders. She could rub…well, other things. And he’d hold her all
night as they fell into an exhausted sleep.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t a relaxing glass of wine or a back rub to be had. In fact, it was
nearly dawn when Jenna finally collapsed into a bed. She didn’t even have the energy to pull back
the covers.
Chapter 6

Zahir was livid. Jenna hadn’t called him all day. She also hadn’t responded to his text messages.
Jenna had ghosted him. He couldn’t believe that she would do something like that. Of all the people
he knew, Jenna had seemed like the sweetest, kindest, and most thoughtful. Even if she didn’t want to
continue their relationship, he would have guessed that Jenna would at least send him a very polite
text message thanking him for a nice evening.
So, what the hell was going on with her today?
“Your Highness?” his assistant called out, staring down at his infernal tablet.
Striving for patience, which he knew was in severely short supply lately, Zahir turned and
tried to appear interested.
“Yes?” he prompted.
The man looked up, pushing the glasses higher on his nose, then looked back down at the
damn tablet. “The security team looked into Ms. Jenna Halliday yesterday and…”
“Halliday?” he interrupted. Why did that name sound so familiar?
“Yes, Your Highness,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “So, as I was saying, your security
team did a background check on her because you met her for…dinner last night.”
“Forget her,” he snapped, slicing his hand through the air. “She’s gone.”
The man sighed with relief. “Good. Good.” He started to turn away, but James caught sight
of Jenna’s face superimposed over a building that was engulfed in flames.
“What was that?” Zahir demanded.
His aide turned, startled by the harsh tone. “I’m sorry?”
Zahir pointed to the tablet. “What were you looking at?” he asked again, reaching to take the
tablet. “What was on it?”
“Oh,” the aide tapped on the screen again, bringing the image back to the front. Sure enough,
it was Jenna. She had sunglasses on and was speaking into a grouping of microphones. “There was a
fire at one of the Halliday Hotels earlier today. Ms. Halliday is currently speaking to reporters about
the fire and the investigation.”
“Fire?” he echoed, scanning the article. “And what investigation?”
“The fire was set deliberately, Your Highness.”
“And the investigators suspect Jenna?”
The man’s eyes widened, troubled by the suggestion. “Oh, no, Sire! Ms. Halliday is merely
speaking to the reporters. She flew from Seattle early this morning and landed in Orlando just before
dinnertime. The guests of the hotel are all singing the praises of the hotel staff. Everyone is being
interviewed for witnesses since the fire was declared to be intentionally set.”
 Zahir stared at his aide for a long moment, then his brain kicked into overdrive. Pulling out
his phone, he dialed Jenna’s number and walked away, preferring privacy.
When she answered, Jenna sounded breathless.
“Hello?”
“Jenna, are you okay?”
There was a moment’s silence, then she asked, “Zahir?”
“Yes. It’s me. I saw you on the news talking about the fire. Are you okay?” he demanded,
emphasizing the last three words.
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” she replied with a heavy sigh. He pictured her smoothing her hair back
and remembered running his fingers through her silken tresses last night. “I’m just…the fire was set
on purpose, Zahir!” she blurted and he could hear the shock and horror in her tone. “They even
tampered with the sprinkler system, so the fire would be even worse.”
“What are the investigators saying?” he asked, turning to lean his forehead against the wall.
He heard someone calling her name in the background, and he clenched the cell phone tighter, needing
this connection to her.
“They aren’t telling me much, but I think that’s because they don’t know much yet. They just
started investigating. We’re going through employee records and…” she stopped. He wondered if
her soft hands were pressed against her forehead. “Well, it’s just a mess. Someone set fire to a hotel
and people could have gotten hurt.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“No, thank goodness. Not even a scrape. There were some wet clothes in a few of the guest
rooms and the cleaning staff is changing bed linens that got doused. But…I shouldn’t be telling you
this.”
“I won’t say a word to anyone, Jenna. I promise.” He heard someone else calling her name,
then a third voice call for her. “You have to go. Just…call me if there’s anything I can do to help,
okay?”
“Yes,” she replied and he knew that she was already distracted. “But…I’m…” she hesitated
again. “I’m so sorry that I left without saying goodbye this morning!”
“We’ll talk about that the next time we see each other. Good luck today, Jenna.”
“Thank you,” she replied with sincerity. Then the call ended.
Zahir frowned at his phone, his jaw tightening as he considered possible ways he could help
her. But nothing came to mind, other than sending her food. They’d skipped dinner last night. And he
doubted she’d taken the time to eat anything yet this morning. If she’d flown across the country, Jenna
had probably forgotten to eat lunch as well.
He turned to his assistant. “Call a restaurant in Orlando, Florida and have them deliver a
banquet of food to the staff of the hotel. Make sure that a meal is specifically delivered to Jenna.”
 Then he headed into his first meeting, his thoughts lingering on Jenna, wondering if she would
take the time to eat something. She would need the energy to get her through the rest of the day. And
most likely the night. As President of Halliday Hotels, her attention would be required for the
investigation, as well as ensuring that the hotel guests were well taken care of. But who would take
care of her?
Zahir didn’t like the answers that came to mind. He missed the first three issues brought up
in the negotiations and had to request that the speaker go over them again. But even after the second
telling, his thoughts remained focused on Jenna.

“I’m looking for a Jenna Halliday?”

Jenna heard her name being called, again, and stifled a groan. She was exhausted, tired,
overwhelmed with the growing pile of issues she needed to resolve and wanted a bed. And a
sandwich! Good grief, she was famished! Glancing at her watch, she found it was nearly six o’clock
in the evening. She hadn’t eaten in more than twenty-four hours and she’d been pushing herself to
figure out how to protect the hotel guests, reassure the hotel staff, feed the emergency personnel,
respond to every interview request, push the lawyers off for one more day, help the field insurance
agents who needed information, and get everyone back into a clean, dry hotel room.
Those were her priorities. Food? She pushed the gnawing hunger away. She’d grab
something later. Maybe she could run across the street to grab a yogurt from the convenience store?
Yes, she could scarf down a small cup of yogurt pretty quickly and get back to work.
“Jenna Halliday?” the voice called again. “Anyone know where I can find her?”
Jenna closed her eyes briefly, then pasted a professional smile on her face and turned.
Standing in the doorway of the makeshift investigation headquarters was a delivery guy holding a
bag. Instantly, her mouth began to water.
“I’m Jenna Halliday,” she called back, waving so that the delivery person could see her.
The man, a teenager, actually, smiled with relief and hurried forward. “I’m to deliver this
directly into your hands personally,” the kid explained, extending the bag. “Have a great day!”
“Wait!” she called back. “If you give me a moment, I’ll grab my purse and get you a…?”
The kid smiled back and shook his head. “No need, ma’am, the person who ordered the meal
for ya gave me a huge tip. I’m good!” He waved again, and hurried off.
Jenna stared after him for a moment, then looked down at the bag. It smelled really good!
She looked around, wondering if anyone else was hungry. “Has everyone had lunch?”
The people all nodded their heads, indicating that they’d been fed and were good to go. So
Jenna, carefully cradled the bag in her arms, hurried away to find a quiet spot. She found the cleaning
closet and stepped inside, turned on the light, flipped a bucket over and sat down on the bucket.
Opening the bag, Jenna sighed with happiness as she found the burger and fries. “Oh, this is
wonderful!” she whispered and pulled out three fries, stuffing them into her mouth all at once.
 “Oh my gosh, this is so good!” she whispered to herself, then pulled out the burger. It already
had ketchup, pickles, and a bit of mustard. “Excellent!” She took a huge bite, then grabbed a napkin
out of the bag to wipe the drip of juice from her chin. “Oh!” she sighed again, leaning her head back
against the wall as she savored the delicious flavors.
As she stuffed the last fry into her mouth, she sighed with the relief from the pangs of hunger
that had been plaguing her all day long.
Crumpling up the bag, she looked around for a trashcan. That’s when she saw it. It was
tucked in a cardboard box surrounded by cleaning chemicals. “What is this?” she whispered, leaning
forward a bit more. As soon as she realized what the contraption was, she gasped and stood up.
Then carefully, Jenna backed out of the closet.
She rushed into the make-shift conference room. “Mr. Hoffman,” she said, calling to the fire
marshal, “I need you immediately.” She looked over at Lance and gestured for him to come as well.
She led the pair back to the cleaning closet, then pointed at the contraption. “I think we need
to evacuate the hotel again,” she whispered. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
The fire marshal clenched his teeth, bent lower and eyed the device, then blew out a sigh of
relief. “Nope. That’s similar to the others, but it’s not connected.” He turned to look at her. “I
appreciate, more than you know, that you’re willing to evacuate the hotel all over again despite the
issues such a move would create, but my men are good, Ms. Halliday,” he explained softly. “They’ve
gone through the entire hotel, looking for more incendiary devices, and they found nothing. They
crawled up into the ventilation system. They looked behind every damn door in the place over the
past several hours. The hotel is clean.” He jerked his head towards the device. “This is in one of
the out-buildings and won’t go off. The latch connecting the trigger to the fuel is disconnected, so it’s
safe.”
Jenna relaxed slightly. But she wasn’t ready to drop her guard. “How could your people
have missed this one?”
He shook his head. “Because it’s not part of the main building. This part of the hotel is
separate from the main building and we were looking for anything that would harm the guests. Now,
my guys are still searching, and they’ll eventually get to this one. But,” he turned and looked back at
the device, “I suspect that this was a prototype. And that’s a good thing.”
She pulled back, angry now. And exhausted! She was brutally exhausted!
“How can you think a prototype is a good thing?” she demanded. “The cleaning crew could
have gotten hurt if this thing went off!”
He shook his head and pointed to the device. “See this?” he said, pointing to a small spring.
“It’s broken. So the device looks like a first attempt that failed. The good news is that, because we
found the device here, in the cleaning area, we can assume that the person who set the other fires
knew their way around the hotel. They also knew this area, which holds most of the extra cleaning
supplies and is separate from the main hotel. The person who did this was most likely cautious and
careful. Plus, they had an agenda. We don’t know what that agenda is yet, but this clue will help.”
He looked at Jenna carefully. “Will you trust me to figure this out?”
 Jenna stared thoughtfully at the man, glanced down at the device, then nodded slowly.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she shifted on her feet as she answered, “Yes. Thank you for the
reassurance as well.” She stiffened a moment later. “But, if you think there’s any reason to
evacuate–”
He held up his hands. “I’ll be the first to give you and Lance the heads up.”
Lance turned to the fire marshal. “Mr. Hoffman, do you want my staff to inspect as well?”
Mr. Hoffman sighed, fisting his hands on his hips. “Actually, I don’t think that would be a
good idea. My guess is that the person who started the fires is a staff member, or a former employee.
I’d also guess that they were angry with one of you, or someone in your organization,” he explained.
Jenna and Lance traded worried glances. “What do you need us to do now?” she asked.
Chapter 7

Was consciousness really necessary?

Jenna rolled over in bed, not bothering to open her eyes. It probably wouldn’t matter
anyway. The effort to open her eyes was too much and she simply didn’t have that kind of energy.
She was exhausted, cranky, and too irritated for words. She’d been to eleven cities in the
past ten days, meeting with every hotel manager, showing him how to inspect every room in the hotel.
She’d shared the tips and tricks that Fire Marshal Hoffman had showed her, explained that they were
looking for a disgruntled employee, probably a man – but maybe a woman, who knew the ins and outs
of the hotel industry. The culprit was most likely someone who had worked in several different
departments, but not necessarily. They were probably disgruntled, but could also be someone who
just liked the idea of chaos. The person could be someone who lived in Orlando, Florida. But it
could also be someone who traveled throughout the country. Maybe a business person. Maybe a
tourist who traveled a lot.
She always summed up every explanation by saying, “The arsonist could be a guest or an
employee, someone who holds a grudge against Halliday Hotels, or someone who just enjoys chaos.
It could be a current employee or someone who had already moved on.” In other words, they were
looking for any and everyone.
It was five o’clock in the morning, however, Jenna had lost track of what day it was. Every
day seemed to blur into the next.
Food. She needed something to eat. She definitely hadn’t been eating properly. Nor had she
gotten out for a good, long, relaxing run. She hadn’t gotten any time off either. In other words, Jenna
was a mess!
“Get up!” she ordered herself. But her legs remained limp on the mattress.
The phone ringing reminded her of her responsibilities and she reluctantly rolled over to grab
it. “Halliday,” she whispered into the phone because it was simply too early in the morning for
anything louder.
“Good morning, Ms. Halliday,” a man greeted in a friendly manner. “This is Tim, the general
manager. I found something that you might need to see.”
Jenna’s heart lurched and she closed her eyes briefly. “I’ll be right there,” she promised.
Fifteen minutes later, she was showered and dressed. Hopefully. She had a light coat of
makeup on, but hadn’t bothered to do much more with her hair other than just pull it back.
“Good morning, Tim,” she said, greeting the general manager with a polite hand shake.
“Show me what you’ve got,” she said.
Ten minutes later, they were standing in front of the reception desks, smiling with relief.
“Good eye and I appreciate your caution,” she told the manager gratefully.
“I’m sorry to have woken you, ma’am,” Tim said, looking a bit sheepish.
 “No, it’s better to be cautious. We have a lot of guests to protect.”
“Still, the cleaning products were…” he started, shrugging slightly. “They aren’t where they
were supposed to be.”
“I agree. But there’s no igniting device. So, it should be safe.”
“Well, still, it probably could have waited.”
Jenna shook her head. “Absolutely not. You did exactly what I need you to do. You followed
the instructions in the memo I sent out last week to the letter. I appreciate your diligence.”
The man bowed his head and nodded. “You’re very gracious about my error, Jenna. How
about if I send up a hot breakfast from the kitchen to your room?”
Jenna was just about to thank him for the offer when a man in a dark suit came out of the
elevator. “Zahir!” she whispered, staring in shock.
At the same moment, he looked up and their eyes locked. It was him! Her body went into
overdrive, memories from their one night together dancing behind her eyes. It was him!
He stopped. She stared at him and he said something to the men surrounding him.
Jenna must have said something to dismiss Tim because he returned to his office, leaving her
standing in the middle of the lobby.

Zahir lifted a hand in the air, stopping his guards from following him. He wanted this
conversation to be private. He was angry that she hadn’t called him, hadn’t texted him since their
night together. He’d given her a pass the day after because of the fire at her hotel in Florida. But
what had she been doing since then?
Somehow, they were there, stopping in the middle of the lobby. “You’re here,” she
whispered.
“So are you,” he quipped in response.
Jenna started to lean into him, but a noise off to the right stopped her. She glanced over at the
noise, but Zahir drew her attention back to him by simply touching her arm.
“Come with me,” he whispered. “We need to talk.”
She hesitated, but in the end, she nodded and followed him towards the elevators. He
pressed the button for the private elevator and they stepped inside. When the doors closed, he turned
to look down at her.
“Cameras,” she whispered, keeping her eyes forward. “They are everywhere, including the
elevators.”
He nodded sharply and turned to face forward. “You’re right,” he sighed.
As soon as they were safely inside the penthouse suite, Jenna took several steps into the room
and turned. Zahir watched her, every fiber of his being clamoring to pull her into his arms. But he
Another random document with
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 CHAPTER VIII
JANE GETS OFF THE FAIRWAY

The side-door leading into the smoking-room opened, and the

golf-club’s popular and energetic secretary came trotting down the
steps on to the terrace above the ninth green. As he reached the
gravel, a wandering puff of wind blew the door to with a sharp report,
and the Oldest Member, who had been dozing in a chair over his
Wodehouse on the Niblick, unclosed his eyes, blinking in the strong
light. He perceived the secretary skimming to and fro like a questing
dog.
“You have lost something?” he inquired, courteously.
“Yes, a book. I wish,” said the secretary, annoyed, “that people
would leave things alone. You haven’t seen a novel called The Man
with the Missing Eyeball anywhere about, have you? I’ll swear I left it
on one of these seats when I went in to lunch.”
“You are better without it,” said the Sage, with a touch of austerity.
“I do not approve of these trashy works of fiction. How much more
profitably would your time be spent in mastering the contents of such
a volume as I hold in my hand. This is the real literature.”
The secretary drew nearer, peering discontentedly about him; and
as he approached the Oldest Member sniffed inquiringly.
“What,” he said, “is that odour of—? Ah, I see that you are wearing
them in your buttonhole. White violets,” he murmured. “White violets.
Dear me!”
The secretary smirked.
“A girl gave them to me,” he said, coyly. “Nice, aren’t they?” He
squinted down complacently at the flowers, thus missing a sudden
sinister gleam in the Oldest Member’s eye—a gleam which, had he
been on his guard, would have sent him scudding over the horizon;
for it was the gleam which told that the Sage had been reminded of a
story.
“White violets,” said the Oldest Member, in a meditative voice. “A
curious coincidence that you should be wearing white violets and
looking for a work of fiction. The combination brings irresistibly to my
mind—”
Realising his peril too late, the secretary started violently. A gentle
hand urged him into the adjoining chair.
“—the story,” proceeded the Oldest Member, “of William Bates,
Jane Packard, and Rodney Spelvin.”
The secretary drew a deep breath of relief and the careworn look
left his face.
“It’s all right,” he said, briskly. “You told me that one only the other
day. I remember every word of it. Jane Packard got engaged to
Rodney Spelvin, the poet, but her better feelings prevailed in time,
and she broke it off and married Bates, who was a golfer. I recall the
whole thing distinctly. This man Bates was an unromantic sort of
chap, but he loved Jane Packard devotedly. Bless my soul, how it all
comes back to me! No need to tell it me at all!”
“What I am about to relate now,” said the sage, tightening his grip
on the other’s coat-sleeve, “is another story about William Bates,
Jane Packard, and Rodney Spelvin.”

Inasmuch (said the Oldest Member) as you have not forgotten the
events leading up to the marriage of William Bates and Jane
Packard, I will not repeat them. All I need say is that that curious
spasm of romantic sentiment which had caused Jane to fall
temporarily under the spell of a man who was not only a poet but
actually a non-golfer, appeared to have passed completely away,
leaving no trace behind. From the day she broke off her engagement
to Spelvin and plighted her troth to young Bates, nothing could have
been more eminently sane and satisfactory than her behaviour.
 She seemed entirely her old self once more. Two hours after
William had led her down the aisle, she and he were out on the links,
playing off the final of the Mixed Foursomes which—and we all
thought it the best of omens for their married happiness—they won
hands down. A deputation of all that was best and fairest in the
village then escorted them to the station to see them off on their
honeymoon, which was to be spent in a series of visits to well-known
courses throughout the country.
Before the train left, I took young William aside for a moment. I
had known both him and Jane since childhood, and the success of
their union was very near my heart.
“William,” I said, “a word with you.”
“Make it snappy,” said William.
“You have learned by this time,” I said, “that there is a strong
romantic streak in Jane. It may not appear on the surface, but it is
there. And this romantic streak will cause her, like so many wives, to
attach an exaggerated importance to what may seem to you trivial
things. She will expect from her husband not only love and a
constant tender solicitude—”
“Speed it up,” urged William.
“What I am trying to say is that, after the habit of wives, she will
expect you to remember each year the anniversary of your wedding
day, and will be madder than a wet hen if you forget it.”
“That’s all right. I thought of that myself.”
“It is not all right,” I insisted. “Unless you take the most earnest
precautions, you are absolutely certain to forget. A year from now
you will come down to breakfast and Jane will say to you, ‘Do you
know what day it is to-day?’ and you will answer ‘Tuesday’ and reach
for the ham and eggs, thus inflicting on her gentle heart a wound
from which it will not readily recover.”
“Nothing like it,” said William, with extraordinary confidence. “I’ve
got a system calculated to beat the game every time. You know how
fond Jane is of white violets?”
 “Is she?”
“She loves ’em. The bloke Spelvin used to give her a bunch every
day. That’s how I got the idea. Nothing like learning the shots from
your opponent. I’ve arranged with a florist that a bunch of white
violets is to be shipped to Jane every year on this day. I paid five
years in advance. I am therefore, speaking in the most conservative
spirit, on velvet. Even if I forget the day, the violets will be there to
remind me. I’ve looked at it from every angle, and I don’t see how it
can fail. Tell me frankly, is the scheme a wam or is it not?”
“A most excellent plan,” I said, relieved. And the next moment the
train came in. I left the station with my mind at rest. It seemed to me
that the only possible obstacle to the complete felicity of the young
couple had been removed.

Jane and William returned in due season from their honeymoon,

and settled down to the normal life of a healthy young couple. Each
day they did their round in the morning and their two rounds in the
afternoon, and after dinner they would sit hand in hand in the
peaceful dusk, reminding one another of the best shots they had
brought off at the various holes. Jane would describe to William how
she got out of the bunker on the fifth, and William would describe to
Jane the low raking wind-cheater he did on the seventh, and then for
a moment they would fall into that blissful silence which only true
lovers know, until William, illustrating his remarks with a walking-
stick, would show Jane how he did that pin-splitter with the mashie
on the sixteenth. An ideally happy union, one would have said.
But all the while a little cloud was gathering. As the anniversary of
their wedding day approached, a fear began to creep into Jane’s
heart that William was going to forget it. The perfect husband does
not wait till the dawning of the actual day to introduce the
anniversary motif into his conversation. As long as a week in
advance he is apt to say, dreamily, “About this time a year ago I was
getting the old silk hat polished up for the wedding,” or “Just about
now, a year ago, they sent home the sponge-bag trousers, as worn,
and I tried them on in front of the looking-glass.” But William said
none of these things. Not even on the night before the all-important
date did he make any allusion to it, and it was with a dull feeling of
foreboding that Jane came down to breakfast next morning.
She was first at the table, and was pouring out the coffee when
William entered. He opened the morning paper and started to peruse
its contents in silence. Not a yip did he let out of him to the effect that
this was the maddest, merriest day of all the glad new year.
“William,” said Jane.
“Hullo?”
“William,” said Jane, and her voice trembled a little, “what day is it
to-day?”
William looked at her over the paper surprised.
“Wednesday, old girl,” he replied. “Don’t you remember that
yesterday was Tuesday? Shocking memory you’ve got.”
He then reached out for the sausages and bacon and resumed his
reading.
“Jane,” he said, suddenly. “Jane, old girl, there’s something I want
to tell you.”
“Yes?” said Jane, her heart beginning to flutter.
“Something important.”
“Yes?”
“It’s about these sausages. They are the very best,” said William,
earnestly, “that I have ever bitten. Where did you get them?”
“From Brownlow.”
“Stick to him,” said William.
Jane rose from the table and wandered out into the garden. The
sun shone gaily, but for her the day was bleak and cold. That William
loved her she did not doubt. But that streak of romance in her
demanded something more than mere placid love. And when she
realised that the poor mutt with whom she had linked her lot had
forgotten the anniversary of their wedding-day first crack out of the
box, her woman’s heart was so wounded that for two pins she could
have beaned him with a brick.
It was while she was still brooding in this hostile fashion that she
perceived the postman coming up the garden. She went to meet
him, and was handed a couple of circulars and a mysterious parcel.
She broke the string, and behold! a cardboard box containing white
violets.
Jane was surprised. Who could be sending her white violets? No
message accompanied them. There was no clue whatever to their
origin. Even the name of the florist had been omitted.
“Now, who—?” mused Jane, and suddenly started as if she had
received a blow. Rodney Spelvin! Yes, it must be he. How many a
bunch of white violets had he given her in the brief course of their
engagement! This was his poetic way of showing her that he had not
forgotten. All was over between them, she had handed him his hat
and given him the air, but he still remembered.
Jane was a good and dutiful wife. She loved her William, and no
others need apply. Nevertheless, she was a woman. She looked
about her cautiously. There was nobody in sight. She streaked up to
her room and put the violets in water. And that night, before she went
to bed, she gazed at them for several minutes with eyes that were a
little moist. Poor Rodney! He could be nothing to her now, of course,
but a dear lost friend; but he had been a good old scout in his day.

It is not my purpose to weary you with repetitious detail in this

narrative. I will, therefore, merely state that the next year and the
next year and the year after that precisely the same thing took place
in the Bates’s home. Punctually every September the seventh
William placidly forgot, and punctually every September the seventh
the sender of the violets remembered. It was about a month after the
fifth anniversary, when William had got his handicap down to nine
and little Braid Vardon Bates, their only child, had celebrated his
fourth birthday, that Rodney Spelvin, who had hitherto confined
himself to poetry, broke out in a new place and inflicted upon the
citizenry a novel entitled The Purple Fan.
I saw the announcement of the publication in the papers; but
beyond a passing resolve that nothing would induce me to read the
thing I thought no more of the matter. It is always thus with life’s
really significant happenings. Fate sneaks its deadliest wallops in on
us with such seeming nonchalance. How could I guess what that
book was to do to the married happiness of Jane and William Bates?
In deciding not to read The Purple Fan I had, I was to discover,
over-estimated my powers of resistance. Rodney Spelvin’s novel
turned out to be one of those things which it is impossible not to
read. Within a week of its appearance it had begun to go through the
country like Spanish influenza; and, much as I desired to avoid it, a
perusal was forced on me by sheer weight of mass-thinking. Every
paper that I picked up contained reviews of the book, references to
it, letters from the clergy denouncing it; and when I read that three
hundred and sixteen mothers had signed a petition to the authorities
to have it suppressed, I was reluctantly compelled to spring the
necessary cash and purchase a copy.
I had not expected to enjoy it, and I did not. Written in the
neodecadent style, which is so popular nowadays, its preciosity
offended me; and I particularly objected to its heroine, a young
woman of a type which, if met in real life, only ingrained chivalry
could have prevented a normal man from kicking extremely hard.
Having skimmed through it, I gave my copy to the man who came to
inspect the drains. If I had any feeling about the thing, it was a
reflection that, if Rodney Spelvin had had to get a novel out of his
system, this was just the sort of novel he was bound to write. I
remember experiencing a thankfulness that he had gone so entirely
out of Jane’s life. How little I knew!
 Jane, like every other woman in the village, had bought her copy
of The Purple Fan. She read it surreptitiously, keeping it concealed,
when not in use, beneath a cushion on the Chesterfield. It was not its
general tone that caused her to do this, but rather the subconscious
feeling that she, a good wife, ought not to be deriving quite so much
enjoyment from the work of a man who had occupied for a time such
a romantic place in her life.
For Jane, unlike myself, adored the book. Eulalie French, its
heroine, whose appeal I had so missed, seemed to her the most
fascinating creature she had ever encountered.
She had read the thing through six times when, going up to town
one day to do some shopping, she ran into Rodney Spelvin. They
found themselves standing side by side on the pavement, waiting for
the traffic to pass.
“Rodney!” gasped Jane.
It was a difficult moment for Rodney Spelvin. Five years had
passed since he had last seen Jane, and in those five years so many
delightful creatures had made a fuss of him that the memory of the
girl to whom he had once been engaged for a few weeks had
become a little blurred. In fact, not to put too fine a point on it, he had
forgotten Jane altogether. The fact that she had addressed him by
his first name seemed to argue that they must have met at some
time somewhere; but, though he strained his brain, absolutely
nothing stirred.
The situation was one that might have embarrassed another man,
but Rodney Spelvin was a quick thinker. He saw at a glance that
Jane was an extremely pretty girl, and it was his guiding rule in life
never to let anything like that get past him. So he clasped her hand
warmly, allowed an expression of amazed delight to sweep over his
face, and gazed tensely into her eyes.
“You!” he murmured, playing it safe. “You, little one!”
Jane stood five feet seven in her stockings and had a fore-arm like
the village blacksmith’s, but she liked being called “little one.”
 “How strange that we should meet like this!” she said, blushing
brightly.
“After all these years,” said Rodney Spelvin, taking a chance. It
would be a nuisance if it turned out that they had met at a studio-
party the day before yesterday, but something seemed to tell him
that she dated back a goodish way. Besides, even if they had met
the day before yesterday, he could get out of it by saying that the
hours had seemed like years. For you cannot stymie these modern
poets. The boys are there.
“More than five,” murmured Jane.
“Now where the deuce was I five years ago?” Rodney Spelvin
asked himself.
Jane looked down at the pavement and shuffled her left shoe
nervously.
“I got the violets, Rodney,” she said.
Rodney Spelvin was considerably fogged, but he came back
strongly.
“That’s good!” he said. “You got the violets? That’s capital. I was
wondering if you would get the violets.”
“It was like you to send them.”
Rodney blinked, but recovered himself immediately. He waved his
hand with a careless gesture, indicative of restrained nobility.
“Oh, as to that—!”
“Especially as I’m afraid I treated you rather badly. But it really was
for the happiness of both of us that I broke off the engagement. You
do understand that, don’t you?”
A light broke upon Rodney Spelvin. He had been confident that it
would if he only stalled along for a while. Now he placed this girl.
She was Jane something, the girl he had been engaged to. By Jove,
yes. He knew where he was now.
 “Do not let us speak of it,” he said, registering pain. It was quite
easy for him to do this. All there was to it was tightening the lips and
drawing up the left eyebrow. He had practised it in front of his mirror,
for a fellow never knew when it might not come in useful.
“So you didn’t forget me, Rodney?”
“Forget you!”
There was a short pause.
“I read your novel,” said Jane. “I loved it.”
She blushed again, and the colour in her cheeks made her look so
remarkably pretty that Rodney began to feel some of the emotions
which had stirred him five years ago. He decided that this was a
good thing and wanted pushing along.
“I hoped that you might,” he said in a low voice, massaging her
hand. He broke off and directed into her eyes a look of such squashy
sentimentality that Jane reeled where she stood. “I wrote it for you,”
he added, simply.
Jane gasped.
“For me?”
“I supposed you would have guessed,” said Rodney. “Surely you
saw the dedication?”
The Purple Fan had been dedicated, after Rodney Spelvin’s
eminently prudent fashion, to “One Who Will Understand.” He had
frequently been grateful for the happy inspiration.
“The dedication?”
“‘To One Who Will Understand,’” said Rodney, softly. “Who would
that be but you?”
“Oh, Rodney!”
“And didn’t you recognise Eulalie, Jane? Surely you cannot have
failed to recognise Eulalie?”
“Recognise her?”
 “I drew her from you,” said Rodney Spelvin.

Jane’s mind was in a whirl as she went home in the train. To have
met Rodney Spelvin again was enough in itself to stimulate into
activity that hidden pulse of romance in her. To discover that she had
been in his thoughts so continuously all these years and that she still
held such sway over his faithful heart that he had drawn the heroine
of his novel from her was simply devastating. Mechanically she got
out at the right station and mechanically made her way to the
cottage. She was relieved to find that William was still out on the
links. She loved William devotedly, of course, but just at the moment
he would have been in the way; for she wanted a quiet hour with The
Purple Fan. It was necessary for her to re-read in the light of this
new knowledge the more important of the scenes in which Eulalie
French figured. She knew them practically by heart already, but
nevertheless she wished to read them again. When William returned,
warm and jubilant, she was so absorbed that she only just had time
to slide the book under the sofa-cushion before the door opened.
Some guardian angel ought to have warned William Bates that he
was selecting a bad moment for his re-entry into the home, or at
least to have hinted that a preliminary wash and brush-up would be
no bad thing. There had been rain in the night, causing the links to
become a trifle soggy in spots, and William was one of those
energetic golfers who do not spare themselves. The result was that
his pleasant features were a good deal obscured by mud. An
explosion-shot out of the bunker on the fourteenth had filled his hair
with damp sand, and his shoes were a disgrace to any refined home.
No, take him for all in all, William did not look his best. He was fine if
the sort of man you admired was the brawny athlete straight from the
dust of the arena; but on a woman who was picturing herself the
heroine of The Purple Fan he was bound to jar. Most of the scenes
in which Eulalie French played anything like a fat part took place
either on moonlight terraces or in beautifully furnished studios
beneath the light of Oriental lamps with pink silk shades, and all the
men who came in contact with her—except her husband, a
clodhopping brute who spent most of his time in riding-kit—were
perfectly dressed and had dark, clean-cut, sensitive faces.
William, accordingly, induced in Jane something closely
approximating to the heeby-jeebies.
“Hullo, old girl!” said William, affectionately. “You back? What have
you been doing with yourself?”
“Oh, shopping,” said Jane, listlessly.
“See any one you knew?”
For a moment Jane hesitated.
“Yes,” she said. “I met Rodney Spelvin.”
Jealousy and suspicion had been left entirely out of William
Bates’s make-up. He did not start and frown; he did not clutch the
arm of his chair; he merely threw back his head and laughed like a
hyæna. And that laugh wounded Jane more than the most violent
exhibition of mistrust could have done.
“Good Lord!” gurgled William, jovially. “You don’t mean to say that
bird is still going around loose? I should have thought he would have
been lynched years ago. Looks like negligence somewhere.”
There comes a moment in married life when every wife gazes
squarely at her husband and the scales seem to fall from her eyes
and she sees him as he is—one of Nature’s Class A fatheads.
Fortunately for married men, these times of clear vision do not last
long, or there would be few homes left unbroken. It was so that Jane
gazed at William now, but unhappily her conviction that he was an
out-size in rough-neck chumps did not pass. Indeed, all through that
evening it deepened. That night she went to bed feeling for the first
time that, when the clergyman had said, “Wilt thou, Jane?” and she
had replied in the affirmative, a mean trick had been played on an
inexperienced girl.
 And so began that black period in the married life of Jane and
William Bates, the mere recollection of which in after years was
sufficient to put them right off their short game and even to affect
their driving from the tee. To William, having no clue to the cause of
the mysterious change in his wife, her behaviour was inexplicable.
Had not her perfect robustness made such a theory absurd, he
would have supposed that she was sickening for something. She
golfed now intermittently, and often with positive reluctance. She was
frequently listless and distrait. And there were other things about her
of which he disapproved.
“I say, old girl,” he said one evening, “I know you won’t mind my
mentioning it, and I don’t suppose you’re aware of it yourself, but
recently you’ve developed a sort of silvery laugh. A nasty thing to
have about the home. Try to switch it off, old bird, would you mind?”
Jane said nothing. The man was not worth answering. All through
the pages of The Purple Fan, Eulalie French’s silvery laugh had
been highly spoken of and greatly appreciated by one and all. It was
the thing about her that the dark, clean-cut, sensitive-faced men
most admired. And the view Jane took of the matter was that if
William did not like it the poor fish could do the other thing.
But this brutal attack decided her to come out into the open with
the grievance which had been vexing her soul for weeks past.
“William,” she said, “I want to say something. William, I am feeling
stifled.”
“I’ll open the window.”
“Stifled in this beastly little village, I mean,” said Jane, impatiently.
“Nobody ever does anything here except play golf and bridge, and
you never meet an artist-soul from one year’s end to the other. How
can I express myself? How can I be myself? How can I fulfil myself?”
“Do you want to?” asked William, somewhat out of his depth.
“Of course I want to. And I shan’t be happy unless we leave this
ghastly place and go to live in a studio in town.”
 William sucked thoughtfully at his pipe. It was a tense moment for
a man who hated metropolitan life as much as he did. Nevertheless,
if the solution of Jane’s recent weirdness was simply that she had
got tired of the country and wanted to live in town, to the town they
must go. After a first involuntary recoil, he nerved himself to the
martyrdom like the fine fellow he was.
“We’ll pop off as soon as I can sell the house,” he said.
“I can’t wait as long as that. I want to go now.”
“All right,” said William, amiably. “We’ll go next week.”

William’s forebodings were quickly fulfilled. Before he had been in

the Metropolis ten days he had realised that he was up against it as
he had never been up against it before. He and Jane and little Braid
Vardon had established themselves in what the house-agent
described as an attractive bijou studio-apartment in the heart of the
artistic quarter. There was a nice bedroom for Jane, a delightful
cupboard for Braid Vardon, and a cosy corner behind a Japanese
screen for William. Most compact. The rest of the place consisted of
a room with a large skylight, handsomely furnished with cushions
and samovars, where Jane gave parties to the intelligentsia.
It was these parties that afflicted William as much as anything
else. He had not realised that Jane intended to run a salon. His idea
of a pleasant social evening was to have a couple of old friends in for
a rubber of bridge, and the almost nightly incursion of a horde of
extraordinary birds in floppy ties stunned him. He was unequal to the
situation from the first. While Jane sat enthroned on her cushion,
exchanging gay badinage with rising young poets and laughing that
silvery laugh of hers, William would have to stand squashed in a
corner, trying to hold off some bobbed-haired female who wanted his
opinion of Augustus John.
The strain was frightful, and, apart from the sheer discomfort of it,
he found to his consternation that it was beginning to affect his golf.
Whenever he struggled out from the artistic zone now to one of the
suburban courses, his jangled nerves unfitted him for decent play. Bit
by bit his game left him. First he found that he could not express
himself with the putter. Then he began to fail to be himself with the
mashie-niblick. And when at length he discovered that he was only
fulfilling himself about every fifth shot off the tee he felt that this thing
must stop.

The conscientious historian will always distinguish carefully

between the events leading up to a war and the actual occurrence
resulting in the outbreak of hostilities. The latter may be, and
generally is, some almost trivial matter, whose only importance is
that it fulfils the function of the last straw. In the case of Jane and
William what caused the definite rift was Jane’s refusal to tie a can to
Rodney Spelvin.
The author of The Purple Fan had been from the first a leading
figure in Jane’s salon. Most of those who attended these functions
were friends of his, introduced by him, and he had assumed almost
from the beginning the demeanour of a master of the revel. William,
squashed into his corner, had long gazed at the man with sullen
dislike, yearning to gather him up by the slack of his trousers and
heave him into outer darkness; but it is improbable that he would
have overcome his native amiability sufficiently to make any active
move, had it not been for the black mood caused by his rotten golf.
But one evening, when, coming home after doing the Mossy Heath
course in five strokes over the hundred, he found the studio
congested with Rodney Spelvin and his friends, many of them
playing ukeleles, he decided that flesh and blood could bear the
strain no longer.
As soon as the last guest had gone he delivered his ultimatum.
“Listen, Jane,” he said. “Touching on this Spelvin bloke.”
“Well?” said Jane, coldly. She scented battle from afar.
 “He gives me a pain in the neck.”
“Really?” said Jane, and laughed a silvery laugh.
“Don’t do it, old girl,” pleaded William, wincing.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me ‘old girl’.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t like it.”
“You used to like it.”
“Well, I don’t now.”
“Oh!” said William, and ruminated awhile. “Well, be that as it may,”
he went on, “I want to tell you just one thing. Either you throw the
bloke Spelvin out on his left ear and send for the police if he tries to
get in again, or I push off. I mean it! I absolutely push off.”
There was a tense silence.
“Indeed?” said Jane at last.
“Positively push off,” repeated William, firmly. “I can stand a lot, but
pie-faced Spelvin tries human endurance too high.”
“He is not pie-faced,” said Jane, warmly.
“He is pie-faced,” insisted William. “Come round to the Vienna
Bon-Ton Bakery to-morrow and I will show you an individual custard-
pie that might be his brother.”
“Well, I am certainly not going to be bullied into giving up an old
friend just because—”
William stared.
“You mean you won’t hand him the mitten?”
“I will not.”
“Think what you are saying, Jane. You positively decline to give
this false-alarm the quick exit?”
“I do.”
 “Then,” said William, “all is over. I pop off.”
Jane stalked without a word into her bedroom. With a mist before
his eyes William began to pack. After a few moments he tapped at
her door.
“Jane.”
“Well?”
“I’m packing.”
“Indeed?”
“But I can’t find my spare mashie.”
“I don’t care.”
William returned to his packing. When it was finished, he stole to
her door again. Already a faint stab of remorse was becoming
blended with his just indignation.
“Jane.”
“Well?”
“I’ve packed.”
“Really?”
“And now I’m popping.”
There was silence behind the door.
“I’m popping, Jane,” said William. And in his voice, though he tried
to make it cold and crisp, there was a note of wistfulness.
Through the door there came a sound. It was the sound of a
silvery laugh. And as he heard it William’s face hardened. Without
another word he picked up his suit-case and golf-bag, and with set
jaw strode out into the night.
 One of the things that tend to keep the home together in these
days of modern unrest is the fact that exalted moods of indignation
do not last. William, released from the uncongenial atmosphere of
the studio, proceeded at once to plunge into an orgy of golf that for a
while precluded regret. Each day he indulged his starved soul with
fifty-four holes, and each night he sat smoking in bed, pleasantly
fatigued, reviewing the events of the past twelve hours with complete
satisfaction. It seemed to him that he had done the good and
sensible thing.
And then, slowly at first, but day by day more rapidly, his mood
began to change. That delightful feeling of jolly freedom ebbed away.
It was on the morning of the tenth day that he first became
definitely aware that all was not well. He had strolled out on the links
after breakfast with a brassie and a dozen balls for a bit of practice,
and, putting every ounce of weight and muscle into the stroke,
brought off a snifter with his very first shot. Straight and true the ball
sped for the distant green, and William, forgetting everything in the
ecstasy of the moment, uttered a gladsome cry.
“How about that one, old girl?” he exclaimed.
And then, with a sudden sinking of the heart, he realised that he
was alone.
An acute spasm of regret shot through William’s massive bosom.
In that instant of clear thinking he understood that golf is not all.
What shall it profit a man that he do the long hole in four, if there is
no loving wife at his elbow to squeak congratulations? A dull
sensation of forlorn emptiness afflicted William Bates. It passed, but
it had been. And he knew it would come again.
It did. It came that same afternoon. It came next morning.
Gradually it settled like a cloud on his happiness. He did his best to
fight it down. He increased his day’s output to sixty-three holes, but
found no relief. When he reflected that he had had the stupendous
luck to be married to a girl like Jane and had chucked the thing up,
he could have kicked himself round the house. He was in exactly the
position of the hero of the movie when the subtitle is flashed on the
screen: “Came a Day When Remorse Bit Like an Adder Into Roland
Spenlow’s Soul.” Of all the chumps who had ever tripped over
themselves and lost a good thing, from Adam downwards, he, he
told himself, was the woollen-headedest.
On the fifteenth morning it began to rain.

Now, William Bates was not one of your fair-weather golfers. It

took more than a shower to discourage him. But this was real rain,
with which not even the stoutest enthusiast could cope. It poured
down all day in a solid sheet and set the seal on his melancholy. He
pottered about the house, sinking deeper and deeper into the slough
of despond, and was trying to derive a little faint distraction from
practising putts into a tooth-glass when the afternoon post arrived.
There was only one letter. He opened it listlessly. It was from
Jukes, Enderby, and Miller, florists, and what the firm wished to
ascertain was whether, his deposit on white violets to be despatched
annually to Mrs. William Bates being now exhausted, he desired to
renew his esteemed order. If so, on receipt of the money they would
spring to the task of sending same.
William stared at the letter dully. His first impression was that
Jukes, Enderby, and Miller were talking through their collective hats.
White violets? What was all this drivel about white violets? Jukes
was an ass. He knew nothing about white violets. Enderby was a
fool. What had he got to do with white violets? Miller was a pin-head.
He had never deposited any money to have white violets
despatched.
William gasped. Yes, by George, he had, though, he remembered
with a sudden start. So he had, by golly! Good gosh! It all came back
to him. He recalled the whole thing, by Jove! Crikey, yes!
The letter swam before William’s eyes. A wave of tenderness
engulfed him. All that had passed recently between Jane and himself
was forgotten—her weirdness, her wish to live in the Metropolis, her
silvery laugh—everything. With one long, loving gulp, William Bates
dashed a not unmanly tear from his eye and, grabbing a hat and
raincoat, rushed out of the house and sprinted for the station.
At about the hour when William flung himself into the train, Jane
was sitting in her studio-apartment, pensively watching little Braid
Vardon as he sported on the floor. An odd melancholy had gripped
her. At first she had supposed that this was due to the rain, but now
she was beginning to realise that the thing went much deeper than
that. Reluctant though she was to confess it, she had to admit that
what she was suffering from was a genuine soul-sadness, due
entirely to the fact that she wanted William.
It was strange what a difference his going had made. William was
the sort of fellow you shoved into a corner and forgot about, but
when he was not there the whole scheme of things seemed to go
blooey. Little by little, since his departure, she had found the
fascination of her surroundings tending to wane, and the glamour of
her new friends had dwindled noticeably. Unless you were in the
right vein for them, Jane felt, they could be an irritating crowd. They
smoked too many cigarettes and talked too much. And not far from
being the worst of them, she decided, was Rodney Spelvin. It was
with a sudden feeling of despair that she remembered that she had
invited him to tea this afternoon and had got in a special seed-cake
for the occasion. The last thing in the world that she wanted to do
was to watch Rodney Spelvin eating cake.
It is a curious thing about men of the Spelvin type, how seldom
they really last. They get off to a flashy start and for a while convince
impressionable girls that the search for a soul-mate may be
considered formally over; but in a very short while reaction always
sets in. There had been a time when Jane could have sat and
listened to Rodney Spelvin for hours on end. Then she began to feel
that from fifteen to twenty minutes was about sufficient. And now the
mere thought of having to listen to him at all was crushing her like a
heavy burden.
She had got thus far in her meditations when her attention was
attracted to little Braid Vardon, who was playing energetically in a