CHAPTER ONE
Celine hummed a love song as she pushed the housekeeping trolley down the carpeted hallway. Today was going to be a great day she’d told herself, no matter that she was stuck in Cambridge for yet another summer when she’d much rather be back home in France with her mother and two rowdy little brothers.
She smiled as she thought about Marc and Sylvan. The ten and twelve year olds were probably driving her maman crazy at this very moment with their constant pranks and rough play. If only she could be home with them. She was the only one who could keep those two in check.
She stopped at the door to suite 1206. No time to dwell on that now. She had twelve suites to clean in the next few hours and she wanted to make a good impression. For the last two summers she’d worked at small hotels where the pay was minimal and the hours long. This summer she’d been lucky to land a job at one of the largest hotels on Main Street. She’d be earning almost fifty percent more than she’d made at her previous job. It was still a far cry from adequate but if she kept to a tight budget she might just be able to save enough to go home for Christmas.
Celine knocked on the door. No answer. She knocked again just to be sure then stuck her keycard in the slot and pushed it open. Gathering up a handful of towels and tiny bottles of toiletries she tucked them in the crook of her arm, grabbed the handle of the vacuum cleaner then backed into the room.
The presidential suite was magnificent with a spacious living room filled with antique furniture and ornate carpeting. A sparkling crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Celine paused to admire the elegant room. Oh, to be able to live like this. She chuckled to herself. It would probably take a month’s salary for her to pay for one night in this suite.
Now where to start? She had an armful of towels so the bathroom it was. Still humming she pushed the door and walked into the bedroom.
At that moment she heard a click and the bathroom door opened. She gasped and the towels fell from her hands. Standing in front of her, his face hidden by a thick towel, was a tall, muscular and very na**d man.
Celine screamed.
“What the…” The man dropped the towel and stared back at her in obvious shock. “Where did you come from?”
“I…I’m sorry,” Celine said as she backed away. “I thought the suite was empty. I’m so sorry.”
The man was staring at her with eyes that were shockingly green. “I was in the shower," he said, raking his fingers through his dark brown hair, "so if you knocked I wouldn’t have heard a thing.”
Mon Dieu. He was standing there, tall and lean and every inch a man, and he was making no move to cover himself. Celine dropped her eyes, her face hot with embarrassment. She turned to flee.
“Wait. I want to talk to you.”
Was he serious? She would not turn back to talk to a na**d man no matter how handsome. She was back in the living room and had already grabbed hold of her vacuum cleaner when his voice stopped her.
“Don’t leave,” he said, his voice imperious and bold. He sounded like the kind of man who expected to be obeyed. He was standing in the bedroom doorway and this time, thankfully, he had the towel wrapped around his waist. “Wait for me in the living room. I’ll get dressed.”
Without bothering to wait for a reply he turned and went back into the bedroom, leaving Celine staring at the empty doorway. Who did this man think he was, to be ordering her around like that? She frowned as her thoughts raced wildly. Come to think of it, that was a good question. Who was he, really? He had to be a very important person or else a very rich one to be staying in the presidential suite of one of the most expensive hotels in town. Her heart pounded as a new thought crowded her mind. Was he going to come back and reprimand her for violating his privacy? Was he going to report her, or worse, get her fired? Her palms grew damp and she slid them down the sides of her uniform. She couldn’t afford to lose this job, she just couldn’t. When he came she would have to plead her case.
In less than a minute the man was walking out of the bedroom in dark slacks and a white shirt which he buttoned casually as he approached. His long, lean feet were bare.
“Have a seat,” he said and beckoned to the couch by the window.
“Excuse me?” Celine stood stock-still, her hand on the vacuum cleaner, her eyes wide as she stared back at him. Why was he offering her a seat? If he was going to reprimand her why not do it quickly and let her go? He must really plan to lecture her. She decided to speak up, maybe appease him before he got the chance to blast her.
“I’m very sorry for barging in on you like this,” she said, her voice earnest. “It won’t ever happen again. I’ll be back later to clean your room.” With that she started toward the door, pushing the vacuum cleaner before her. Maybe if she made a quick exit nothing more would come of this. At least, that was what she hoped.
She was halfway to the door when he laughed, a deep husky laugh that sent a little shiver up her back. It stopped her in her tracks. She turned to stare at him.
“No need to fly so fast,” he said, tucking the ends of his shirt into his trousers. “I’m not going to bite. I just want to talk to you about something.”
He wanted to talk to her? About what? Her curiosity got the better of her and when he waved her over to the couch again she released her hold on the vacuum cleaner and went to sit demurely on the edge of the chair.
“My name is Pierce D’Amato,” he said and plucked a business card from the desk. He reached over and handed it to her. “And you are?”
“Celine Santini.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Santini,” he said with a smile then cocked an eyebrow. “You’re Italian? Your accent sounds French.”
She nodded and smiled. “Good guess. I’m from France but my dad was an Italian American serviceman. I speak all three languages.”
He gave her quick bow of the head and looked impressed. “Now that we know each other we can talk.” He leaned against the desk and folded his arms across his chest. His face grew serious. “I’m in a dilemma, Ms. Santini, and I wonder if you can help me?”