Hush. Jo Leigh

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      “That’s right.”

      “If I cared, I wouldn’t have built the hotel.”

      He shrugged. “Have it your way. But I suggest you think this through.”

      She took a deep breath. It was important not to yell. Not to lose her cool. The press was here in droves, and she didn’t want anything to deflect from the buzz she was working so hard to build for her hotel. “And why should I do that?”

      “Because, my little spoiled heiress, if you don’t, you’re going to be cut off. Completely. From all those millions of Devon dollars.”

      2

      PIPER STARED at him with her wide blue eyes, and God help him, Trace couldn’t hold back his smile. He’d gotten to her. Oh, yeah. She’d never suspected that Daddy would pull the plug. Not Piper. She was entitled. To everything. So what if she was embarrassing her father, damaging the Devon name? If it felt good, she did it. If it put her face on the front page of the tabloids, she’d be there.

      “What the hell are you talking about?” she asked, her voice a whole lot less cocky.

      “I’m sure you heard me, sweetheart. Nicholas isn’t pleased. And since he’s the one who controls the money, he gets to vote with your inheritance.”

      “And he couldn’t be bothered to come down here himself?”

      “Trust me, you wouldn’t have liked it if he had. I’m giving you a break, Piper.”

      “Some break.” She took a step back. “Gee, Trace, what next? You gonna go tell the press? I’m sure they’d love the scoop.”

      “I actually wanted a chance to hear your spiel, but I guess I’m too late. I think I’ll go have a drink, though. Care to join me?”

      “I’d rather eat worms. I need to promote my hotel. Do me a favor, Trace, find yourself some babe, and keep out of my way.”

      “Mighty snippy for a woman on the brink of poverty.”

      “I’m not kidding. I can’t do this now.”

      “What about after?”

      She headed for the reception desk and walked behind it. He followed at a more leisurely pace, letting himself get a feel for the lobby. It was nice. Very nice. Even Nicholas wouldn’t know that it was a sex hotel from here. When he reached her at the desk, she was typing on a keyboard. She didn’t look up.

      “Piper?”

      Trace glanced toward the bar, where an attractive redhead looked at him curiously.

      “Give me a minute, Janice,” Piper said, still not lifting her head.

      “You got it.” The redhead checked him out, smiled, then went back into the dark recesses of the bar. Maybe he would find himself someone to talk to.

      On the other hand, it was so much fun to be with Piper. Especially when he had her at such a distinct disadvantage. People talk about the fun of tennis, but they didn’t know what it was like to volley in the big leagues. Nobody gave it to him like Piper. Pity she was such a brat.

      “Here,” she said, slapping a key card on the black lacquer counter. “You can stay tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

      He slipped the key in his breast pocket. “You gonna give me turndown service?”

      “Why should tonight be any different? I always turn you down.”

      He bowed his head slightly. “Touché. I really just handed that one to you. Sloppy, Trace, sloppy.”

      “Well, you just stand there and try to come up with something better.”

      Piper walked away and he couldn’t help but admire the view. That little pink number hugged her in all the right places. No wonder the press loved her. She was stunning, and at twenty-seven, she was more beautiful than she’d ever been.

      Not that it mattered. She was spoiled and reckless and she lived as if she were God’s gift to the world. No concern for anyone else, no sense of propriety. She did what she liked, consequences be damned. Well, her free ride was about to end if she didn’t make a real quick turnaround. He hoped, for her sake, she’d get the message. Piper wouldn’t make an attractive pauper. She was awfully used to that silver spoon.

      What the hell. He might as well check out the bar. He had the feeling he’d be seeing a lot of it in the next week.

      PIPER FELT like she’d been kicked in the stomach. He wouldn’t really… Not cut her off. It was a hotel, for heaven’s sake. She wasn’t selling herself in Times Square. She was doing what she’d been born to do. Sure, it was a new concept, nothing at all like the chain of Devon hotels, but wasn’t that the point of a new generation?

      The stipulations on her trust hadn’t said a thing about propriety. Her job was to make money, and dammit, there was no way Hush wouldn’t. He couldn’t do this to her, that’s all. She was his only daughter.

      Kyle must have had something to do with this. Greedy little bastard of a brother. Always pandering to Nicholas. Damn him.

      They’d both been born late in her father’s life. Nicholas had met their mother, Alicia, just after he’d turned forty. Of course, he’d been married before, four times, but Alicia had been the one. How they’d wanted a son. Piper had been reminded of that enough times to make her sick, but Nicholas was from the old school. The very old school. Her mother had protected her from the worst of it, but Alicia hadn’t been around long enough to help with Kyle. So her baby brother had grown up to be the perfect heir. She doubted Nicholas had ever once considered that Piper might be the logical choice to take over the company. Of course not. Darling Kyle would undoubtedly continue to live at Orpheus, continue to be everything Nicholas wanted him to be, and when it was his turn to ascend to the throne, he’d be just as much of a bastard as her father.

      She walked into Erotique, the gorgeous bar, to the accompaniment of cameras, laughter, talking. People having a good time. She pasted on her best smile, and went into the fray. This was her specialty. Getting attention. Making the headlines. No one did it better than her, and dammit, neither Trace or his news was going to spoil things now.

      She’d figure a way to get her father to accept Hush. She would. She wasn’t a Devon for nothing.

      THE REST of the night went on in a blur of interviews and champagne. Trace was never completely out of her sight. She’d turn, and there he’d be. Sipping the Cristal, talking to some hottie, laughing it up. And when his eyes met hers, he smiled. Smiled like he was on top of the world.

      The prick.

      What had she ever, ever seen in him? He was duplicitous, underhanded and a whole bunch of other evil things that if she hadn’t had that last glass of champagne, she could think of.

      Doing her a favor. Ha. He just wanted a front-row ticket. He couldn’t wait to see her take a fall. “Well, you know what, Mr. High-and-Mighty Winslow? Screw you.”

      “What?”

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