'Miss Reed?' The clerk's voice grounded her thoughts. 'If you'll just sign here…'
Sam scrawled her name and accepted her white coded key.
'Room 315A. Take those elevators in the corner and someone will be around shortly with your luggage.' He pointed toward an alcove nestled between several shops. 'The restaurant is down one level and is already open for business. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask.'
'Thanks again…' She leaned over the counter to read the name on his tag. 'Joe. There is one more thing.' She hated to ask, but she needed to know. 'Has a Mr. Tom Webber checked in yet? Same conference.'
The clerk tapped in a few computer keys. 'Why, yes. Late last night. As a matter of fact, he left this for you.'
A nervous fluttering arose in her stomach. 'Thank you.' She looked down to see an invitation to a firm cocktail party late this afternoon and a handwritten note informing her he'd be by to pick her up fifteen minutes before. So they could arrive together, arm in arm. A command performance, part of her obligation as his soon-to-be wife. She'd have to get to Tom before the party or perform as planned and wait until afterward to talk to him. The thought made her ill.
She glanced at her watch. It was too early to awaken her fiance no matter how much she wanted this trauma behind her. Well, she could take care of other things in the meantime. At least her father was an early riser, and he deserved to hear her decision before Tom called him, raving about broken deals and dire consequences.
As she headed for the bank of elevators in the corner, she wondered if Tom might accept things better than she anticipated. Perhaps he'd made idle threats to her father, ones he'd never meant to carry out. He'd seen a man weaker than himself and preyed on that weakness. It didn't mean he'd follow through.
Tom was a nice-looking man, more than capable of attracting women. This wasn't a love match, and there were plenty of women more beautiful than she was, women more willing and better suited to play the role of a rich man's wife. Not that she believed anything could salvage her position in Tom's company. He was ruthless in business, and his personal life would be no different. To save his ego, Tom would never keep her around. To save her sanity and find the life that suited her best, Sam would give her notice regardless.
Her room was at the end of a very long, elegant corridor. Light wooden hand-carved sconces lined the walls and lit the way. If she understood the signs correctly, this floor would be on the pool level, but her room was in the opposite direction.
Without warning, the rooms became farther apart until there were no consecutive doors anymore. When she reached room 315A, she discovered there was also a 315B. Connecting rooms, she assumed, and her stomach cramped in a tight knot.
She hoped Tom hadn't gotten any crazy ideas about spending any intimate time with his fiancee. Until now he'd been content with holding hands in public for appearance's sake. She hoped that hadn't changed. It would only complicate what had to be done.
She inserted the card key and opened the door to her room. Suite, she mentally corrected herself as she took in the spacious area that defined the word
Curiosity took over, and she decided to explore before reporting the error. One partially open door led to a bathroom. She peeked inside. Taupe-and-cream marble, not the standard ceramic usually found in hotels, covered the floors, vanities and Jacuzzi tub. She glanced upward, seeing the full-service shower massage with nozzles everywhere, even in the marble walls.
Wow. She and Mac would have a blast in a place like this. Imagine all the uses he would find for the myriad jets in the Jacuzzi and stall shower. Heat blasted her body as she recalled their first time together in the old tub over the bar. She wrapped her arms around her, but it wasn't the same. She missed him already.
The extravagance here was impressive, but she'd been happier at Bear's. Because Mac had been with her. This suite and its luxuries meant nothing to her without him.
Finishing her brief tour, she noticed two more unopened doors. One she assumed would lead to a bedroom, the other possibly to her fiance. She shivered at the thought. No noises sounded from either room. If Tom was inside, at least he was still asleep.
Sam quietly picked up the phone and called the front desk, explaining her predicament to Joe.
'I assure you there's been no error, Miss Reed.'
'I've been to many conferences, Joe, and I can assure you my company doesn't splurge on suites for its employees.' A standard room would be more likely.
'Let me check.' Sam heard the clicking of computer keys before the clerk came back on the line. 'Well, you're right.'
'I knew it.'
'You've been upgraded.'
'Courtesy of?' she asked, but she already knew the answer. And she refused to remain here and be obligated to Tom when she knew she was about to break off their engagement.
'Hang on a minute, let me check.'
Sam drummed her fingernails against the glass tabletop. As things stood now, she'd have to pay for her expenses out of her own pocket, and she certainly couldn't afford to splurge on a suite. She'd have to budget carefully until she found a new job, and she didn't want to dip into her small savings unless absolutely necessary.
What kind of financial planner would she be if she didn't heed the advice she gave her own clients? Save and prepare for the future had always been her mantra. Too bad her dad hadn't listened. Then she wouldn't be in this predicament now.
Wrong. If she'd asserted herself from the beginning, if she'd taken control of the situation another way, she wouldn't be in this predicament now. She refused to blame her parent because she'd succumbed to old habits, agreeing to play the dutiful daughter out of a sense of misplaced need. Part of her new outlook meant taking responsibility for her role in this mess.
'Miss Reed? This upgrade's on the house,' Joe informed her.
'Are you sure? But why…'
'I'm sorry, but I've got to run. An emergency, you understand. If you have any questions, just stop by the front desk later.' A click was followed by a dial tone.
She'd been disconnected. 'Five-star service my…' At least she knew Tom wasn't lurking in the next room. She slammed down the receiver. Loud.
If her accommodations weren't thanks to Tom, then whom? An even better question would be why?
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. 'Valet,' a voice called.
Great. Now her luggage would be deposited in this room, making it even more difficult for her to leave. She accepted her bags and tipped the bellman, then she called down to the front desk one more time. Joe insisted things were in order, refused to listen to her arguments and claimed there were no other available single rooms.
Sam tossed her arms in the air. 'What else can go wrong?'
She tried her father, got his answering machine and left a message asking him to get back to her later. Ignoring the early hour, she called the hotel operator and asked to be connected with Tom Webber's room. His personal voice mail, another amenity of this lovely hotel, informed her he had an early tee-time and lunch with clients, but he would meet up with everyone at the reception this evening.
She raised her gaze heavenward. 'I had to ask?' Lowering herself onto the small couch, she propped her feet up and sighed. Confession was postponed, and all attempts at room switches would have to be done in person.
She had a day to kill. A day she could have spent with Mac, if she hadn't been so darn stubborn, so… The phone rang, cutting her off. 'Hello?'
'Hi there, Sammy Jo.'
Her heart began a rhythmic pounding that echoed in her ears. 'Mac? Is that you?' Stupid question, but she was so relieved to hear from him she could have cried.
